Page:Banks of Forth.pdf/8

 To Nancy raise the cheerful lay,

O bid her haste and come away;

In sweetest smiles herself adorn,

And add new graces to the morn.

O hark, my love! on ev'ry spray,

Each feather'd warbler tunes his lay;

'Tis beauty fires the ravish'd throng,

And love inspires the melting song.

Then let my ravish'd notes arise,

For beauty darts from Nanny's eyes;

And love my rising bosom warms,

And fills my soul with sweet alarms.

O come, my love, thy Colin's lay,

With rapture calls, Oh! come away;

Come, while the muse this wreath shall twine,

Around the modest brow of thine,

O hither haste, and with thee bring,

That beauty, blooming like the spring;

Those graces that divinely shine,

And charm this ravish'd heart of mine.