Down amang the broom, the broom,
down amang the broom, my deary;
The lassie loſt her ſilken ſnood,
that gar’d her greet till the was weary.
THE LINNETS.
As bringing home, the other day,
two Linnets I had ta’en,
The little warblers ſeem’d to pray
for liberty again.
Unheedful of their plaintive notes,
I ſung acroſs the mead:
In vain they ſwell’d their downy throats,
and flutter’d to be free’d.
As paſſing thro’ the tufted grove,
near which my cottage ſtood,
I thought I ſaw the queen of love,
when Chloe’s charm I view’d:
I gaz’d. I lov’d I preſs’d her ſtay,
to hear my tender tale:
But all in vain ſhe fled away,
nor could my ſighs prevail.
Soon, thro the wound which love had made,
came pity to my breaſt,
And thus! (as compaſſion bade)
the feather’d pair addreſs’d:
