Page:Blue bonnets o'er the border (2).pdf/7

 'Tis this retains me still your slave, 'Tis this which makes me humbly low : Your former favors, Celia gave, The mighty pow'r your frowns have now. 'Tis strange that cruelty to love, The force which it wounds, should owe; But surely this more strange will prove, If crue'ty from love can flow.

If for the effects of loving thee, Your servant by your anger dies, And Celia, you'll revenge on me, The tempting lustre of your eyes : Like Orphens I have sung in vain, Since my fond love my bliss destroys? Like him a fleeting pleasure to obtain, I've lost the hope of solid joys.

When e'er the downs at early day, My lowland Willie hired him, With joy I drove my cows that way, In milking to abide him.

My bonny, bonny lowland Will, My bonny lowland Willie,