Page:Laird of Logie.pdf/6

[6] To you fair Sabra in all her charms,

or chaſte Diana can't equalize,

Nor ſhe whom Paris as is recorded,

was pleas'd to order the Golden Prize.

The bright Aurora in all her glory,

or goddeſs Flora you far outvie,

My brain is roving in ſad emotions,

I muſt adore you until I die.

You are an angel, you're good and pleaſing?

your fine behaviour enchanted me,

Your chains are heavy, I'm doom'd to wear them,

I wiſh ſincerely for liberty.

Theſe wounds you gave me, ſay will you heal me,

you have enſlav'd me, now ſet me free,

It's you can eaſe me, from bonds releaſe me,

and let me gain my tranquility.

My jewel and darling more fair than mornings,

or orient radient you far cutſhineoutshine [sic],

Your eyes tranſparent have me alarmed,

I wiſh my charmer that you were mine.

Your ſwan-like boſom, your neck including,

your cheeks are blooming vermilion red,

Sure every feature new beauty graces,

and auburn treſſes flow from your head.

My breaſt is loaded with diſcompoſure,

in love-ſick motion I now complain,

Sly Cupid ſporting at my corrodings,

that Brat he glories in giving pain.

Will you relieve me, from death reprieve me,

your captive bleeder I now remain,

'm always weeping and ſtill am grieving,

but its when ſleeping of you I dream,