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,
While the sun and thou arise to bless the day.


Phoebus gilding the brow of morning,
Banishes ilk darksome shade,
Nature, gladdening and adorning;
Such to me my lovely maid.
When frae my Chloris parted,
Sad, cheerless, broken-hearted,
The night-s gloomy shades, cloudy, dark, o-ercast my sky:
But when 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!