The Scots musical museum . h gently thro thofe, Such beauty and pleafure does yield. ^mm W leaiui i^ 4 ! •at ±=± 11 --6 6 66 ef-rT The warblers are heard in the grove, The linnet,the lark, and tie thrufh,The blackbird,and fweet-cocmg dove, With mufic enchant every , let us go forth to tne mead, Lets fee how the primrofes fpring,Well lodge in fome village cr. Tweed, And love,while the featherd folks Cng. How does my love pafs the long day? Does Mary not tend a few fheep?Do they never carelefsly ftray, While happily- fhe lies afleepl Tweeds murmurs fhould lull her to reft; Kind Nature i
The Scots musical museum . h gently thro thofe, Such beauty and pleafure does yield. ^mm W leaiui i^ 4 ! •at ±=± 11 --6 6 66 ef-rT The warblers are heard in the grove, The linnet,the lark, and tie thrufh,The blackbird,and fweet-cocmg dove, With mufic enchant every , let us go forth to tne mead, Lets fee how the primrofes fpring,Well lodge in fome village cr. Tweed, And love,while the featherd folks Cng. How does my love pafs the long day? Does Mary not tend a few fheep?Do they never carelefsly ftray, While happily- fhe lies afleepl Tweeds murmurs fhould lull her to reft; Kind Nature indulging my blifs,To eafe the foft pains of my breaft, l d fteal an ambrofial kifs. Tis fhe does the virgins excel, No beauty with her may compare;Loves graces around her do dwell, Shes taireft, where thoufands ars fair,Say, charmer, where do thy flock ftray? Oh! tell me at noon where they feed?Is it on the fweet winding Tay? Or pleafanter banks of the Tweed ? 38 Marys Dream,. Continued. 39 Evn then,vvhen horror chill cl my blood, My heart vNas filld with love for thee:The ftorm is paft, and I at reft: So,Mary, weep no more for maiden dear, thyfelf prepare, ?We foon £hall meet upon that fliore,Where love is free from doubt and care, And thou and I fhall part no more! She from her pillow gently raisd Her head to aflc,who there might beShe faw young Sandy fhiv ring ftand, With vifage pale and hollow eye;O Mary dear, cold is my clay. It lies beneath a ftormy fea;Far, far from thee, I fleep in death;. SojMary, weep no more for me. 3Three ftormy nights and ftormy days Loud crowd the cock, the fhadow fled *We tofsd upon the r£ging main: No more of Sandy could fhe fee; And long we ftrove oT.:r Tbark to fave, But foft the patting fpirit faid, But all our ftriving was in vain. Sweet Mary, weep no more for me! Water Parted from the Sea.
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