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Awake, sweet muse! the breathing spi

With rapture warms, awake and sin

Awake and join the vocal throng,

Who hail the morning with a song:

To Nannie raise the ^cheerful lay;

O bid her haste and come away;

In sweetest smiles herself adorn,

And add new graces to the morn!

O hark my love! on ev'ry spray,

Each feather’d warbler tunes his lay!

'Tis beauty fires the ravish'd throng

And love inspires the melting song:

Then let my raptur'd notes arise,

For beauty darts from Nannie's eyes

And love my rising bosom warms,

And fills my soul with sweet alarms.

O come, my love! thy Colin's lay

With rapture calls, O come away!

Come, while the muse this wreath

twine Around that modest brow of thine,

O! hither haste and with thee bring

That beauty blooming like the spring

Those graces that divinely shine,

And charm, this ravish'd breast of mine.