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7 To westlin breezes Flora yields,

And when the beams are kindly ,

Blytheness appears o'er all the fields,

And nature looks mair fair and :

Learn frae the burns, that trace mead,

Tho' on their banks the roses

Yet hastilie they flow to Tweed,

And pour their sweetness in his.

Haste ye, haste ye, my bonnie Bell,

Haste to my arms, and there I'll thee;

With free consent my fears repel,

I'll with my love and care reward

Thus sang I saſtly to my fair,

Wha rais'd my hopes wi' kind :

O queen of smiles! I ask nae mair,

Since now my bonnie Bell's.





THE DAY RETURNS.

The day returns, my bosom burns,

The blissful day we twa did meet;