The Lovers morning salute to his Mistress—-

SLEEP’ST thou, or wauk’st thou, fairest creature;
Rosy morn now lifts his eye,
Numbering ilka bud with Nature
Waters wi’ the tears o’ joy.
Now, to the streaming fountain,
Or up the heathy mountain,
The hart, hind, and roe, freely, wanton stray;
In twining hazel bowers,
His lay the linnet pours;
Now through the leafy woods,
And by the reeking floods,
Wild Nature’s enants, freely, gladly, stray;
The lintwhite in his bower
Chants, o’er the breathing flower:
The Lavrock, to the sky
Ascends, wi’ sangs o’ joy:
While the sun and thou arise to bless the day.

Phebus, gilding the brow of morning,
Banishes ilk darksome shade,
Nature gladdening and adorning;
Such, to me, my lovely maid.
When frae my Chloris parted,
Sad, cheerless, broken hearted,
Then night’s gloomy shades o’ercast my sky:
But when she charms my sight,
In pride of Beauty’s light;
When absent frae my Fair,
The murky shades o’ Care
With starless gloom o’ercasts my sullen sky;
But, when in beauty’s light,
She meets my ravish’d sight;
When through my very heart,
Her beaming glories dat;
‘Tis then--------‘tis then I waake to life and joy!