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,

itsy the lin pours,

theverock to the sky

ascends, wi' sangs o' joy,

while the sun and thou arise to bless the day.