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 '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 shall 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.





O CAM ye here the fight to shun,

Or herd the sheep wi me, man?

Or were ye at the Sherra-muir,

And did the battle see, man?

I saw the battle, sair and tough,

And reekin-red ran monie a sheugh;

My heart, for fear, gae sough for sough,

To hear the thuds, and see the cluds,

Of clans frae woods, in tartan duds,

Wha glaum'd at kingdoms three, man.