OW fweetly fmells the fimmer green !
Sweet taste the peach and cherry :
Painting and order please our een,
And claret makes us merry:
But fineft colours, fruits, and flowers,
And wine, tho' I be thirsty,
Lofe a' their charms, and weaker powers,
Compar'd with thofe of Chrifty.
When wand'ring o'er the flow'ry park,
No nat❜ral beauty wanting,
How lightfome is't to hear the lark,
And birds in confort chanting?
But if my Chrifty tunes her voice,
I'm rapt in admiration ;
My thoughts with ecftafies rejoice,
And drap the haill creation.
Whene'er the fmiles a kindly glance,
I take the happy omen,"
And aften mint to make advance,
Hoping fhe'll prove a woman :
But, dubious of my ain defert,
My fentiments I fmother;
With fecret fighs I vex my heart,
For fear the love another.
VOL. I.
Thus fang blate Edie by a burn,
His Chrifty did o'erhear him ;
She doughtna let her lover mourn,
But ere he wift drew near him.
She fpake her favour with a look,
Which left nae room to doubt her;
He wifely this white minute took,
And flang his arms about her.
Sic joys frae tears arifing,
I wish this may na be a dream;
O love the maist surprising!
Time was too precious now for tauk
This point of a' his wishes
He wadna with fet fpeeches bauk,
But war'd it a' on kiffes,
Ear me, ye nymphs, and ever y
I'll tell how Peggy grieves me.
Tho' thus I languifh, thus complain,
Alas! fhe ne'er believes me.
My vows and fighs, like filent air,
Unheeded never move her;
At the bonny bufh aboon Traquair,
'Twas there I first did love her.
That day fhe fmil'd, and made me glad,
No maid feem'd ever kinder;
I thought myself the luckiest lad,
So fweetly there to find her.
I try'd to footh my am'rous flame,
In words that I thought tender;
If more there pafs'd, I'm not to blame,
I meant not to offend her.
Yet now fhe fcornful flees the plain,
The fields we then frequented;
If e'er we meet, the fhews difdain,
She looks as ne'er acquainted.
The bonny bush bloom'd fair in May,
Its fweets I'll ay remember;
But now her frowns make it decay,
It fades as in December.
Ye rural powers, who hear my ftrains,
Why thus fhould Peggy grieve me?
Oh! make her partner in my pains,
Then let her fmiles relieve me.
If not, my love will turn despair,
My paffion no more tender.
I'll leave the bufh aboon Traquair;
To lonely wilds I'll wander.
To the tune of, Polwarth on the Green..
HO' beauty, like the rofe,
That fmiles on Polwarth geen,
In various colours fhows,
As 'tis by fancy feen :
Yet all its different glories lie
United in thy face
And virtue, like the fun on high,
Gives rays to ev'ry grace.
So charming is her air,
So fmooth, fo calm her mind,
That to fome angel's care
Each motion feems affign'd :
But yet fo chearful, fprightly, gay,
The joyful moments fly,
As if for wings they ftole the ray
She darteth from her eye.
Hat beauties doés Flora difclofe?
How fweet are her smiles
Yet Mary's still sweeter than thofe ;
Both nature and fancy exceed.
Nor daify, nor fweet-blushing rofe,
Not all the gay flowers of the field,
Not Tweed gliding gently through thofe,
Such beauty and pleasure does yield.
The warblers are heard in the grove,
The linnet, the lark, and the thrush,
The blackbird, and fweet-cooing dove,
With mufic inchant ev'ry bush.
Come, let us go forth to the mead,
Let us fee how the primrofes fpring,
We'll lodge in fome village on Tweed,
And love while the feather'd folks fing.
How does my love pafs the long day?
Does Mary not tend a few sheep?
Do they never carelessly ftray,
While happily fhe lies afleep?
Tweed's murmurs fhould lull her to reft;
Kind nature indulging my blifs,
To relieve the foft pains of my breast,
I'd steal an ambrofial kifs.
"Tis fhe does the virgins excel,
No beauty with her may compare ; Love's graces all round her do dwell,
She's faireft, where thoufands are fair. Say, charmer, where do thy flocks stray? Oh! tell me at noon where they feed Shall I feek them on fweet winding Tay, Or the pleasanter banks of the Tweed?
To the tune of, Wo's my heart that we should sunder.
O! the dear, the charming treasure :
Fortune now in vain shall frown;
All my future life is pleasure.
See how rich with youthful grace,
Beauty warms her ev'ry feature ;
Smiling heaven is in her face,
All is gay, and all is nature.
See what mingling charms arife,
Rofy fmiles, and kindling blufhes;
Love fits laughing in her eyes,
And betrays her fecret wishes,
Haste then from th* Idalian grove,
Infant fimiles, and sports, and graces ;
Spread the downy couch for love,
And lull us in your fweet embraces.
Softeft raptures, pure from noife,
This fair happy night furround us;
While a thousand sprightly joys
Silent flutter all around us.
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