the lover's morning salute to his mistress
tune—“deil tak the wars.”
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,
or up the heathy mountain,
the hart, hind, and roe, freely, wildly-wanton stray;
in twining hazel bowers,
its lay the linnet pours,
the laverock to the sky
ascends, wi' sangs o' joy,