Page:Tibby Fowler (1).pdf/8

8 Awake, and join the vocal throng,

And haill the morning with a song,

To Nancy 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 rav'sh'd throng,

And love inspires the melting song.

Then let my ravish'd notes arise.

For beauty darts from Nanny'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. Oh! come away:

Come, while the muse this wreath shall twine,

Around the 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 heart of mine.

FINIS.

