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3 when down by yon greenwood she promis'd to be, When quick as the summer dew dries on the flower, A' earthly affections and wishes wad flee. Let Art and let Nature display their proud treasure Let Paradise boast o’ what bliss it could gi’e; As high is my bliss and as sweet is my pleasure, In the heart-melting blink o' my lassie's blue e'e.

WOLFES' LAMENT

When ancient Romans did lament, This hero prov'd with discontent, Well may Britain make its moan. Thy choicest hero, Wolf is slain. Mourn Britain, mourn, Thy choicest hero, Wolfe is 'slain.

Then up the scroggy rocks did climb, As bold as any Roman line. Led up his men so manfully, Then said James Wolfe we'll fight or die. Mourn Britain, mourn Thy choicest hero Wolf is slain.

When first Montcalm him did behold. He vow’d he was a soldier bold,