Page:Scotland's skaith, or, The history o' Will & Jean (2).pdf/4

(4) Kind and gentle was her nature;

At ilk place ſhe bore the bell;

Sic a bloom, and ſhape, and ſtature!

But her look nae tongue can tell!

Sic was whan Will firſt mawing

Spied her on a thraward beaft;

Flew like fire, and juſt whán fa'ing

Kept her on his manly breaſt.

Light he bare her pale as aſhes

Croſs the meadow fragrant, green!

Plac'd her on the new-mawn raſhes,

Watching ſad her opening een.

Sic was, whan poor Jean fainting

Drapt into a lover's arms;

Waken’d to his ſaft lamenting;

Sigh'd, and bluſh'd a thouſand charms.

Soon they loo'd, and ſoon war buckl'd;

Nane took time to think and rue.

and and  cuppl'd

Luve had never leſs to do.

Three ſhort years flew by ſu' canty,

Jean and Will thought them but ;

Ilka day brought joy and plenty,

Ilka year a dainty wean.

Will wrought fair; but aye wi' pleaſure;

Jean thic hale day ſpan and ſang;

her conſtant treaſure,

Bleſt wi' them nae day ſeem'd lang;