Sleep’st thou, or wak’st thou, fairest creature?
Rosy morn now lifts his eye,
Numbering ilka bud which Nature
Waters wi’ the tears o’ joy.
Now, to the streaming fountain,
Orup the heathy mountain,
The hart, hind, and roe, freely, wildly-wanton stray;
In twining hazel bowers,
Its lay the linnet pours,
The laverockto the sky
Ascends, wi’sangs o’joy,
While the sun and thou arise to bless the day.
Phoebus gilding the brow of morning,
Banishes ilkdarksome shade,
Nature, gladdening and adorning;
Such to me my lovely maid.
When fraemy Chloris parted,
Sad, cheerless, broken-hearted,
The night’s gloomy shades, cloudy, dark, o’ercast my sky:
Butwhen she charms my sight,
In pride of Beauty’s light-
When thro’ my very heart
Her burning glories dart;
‘Tis then-’tis then I wake to life and joy!