4
Now what could artless Jeanie do?
She had nae will to say him na;
At length she blush'd a sweet consent,
And love was ay atween them twa.
Tweed-side.
Waat beauties does Flora disclose?
How sweet are her smiles upon Tweed!
Yet Mary’s still sweeter than those,
Where nature doth fancy exceed.
No daisy nor sweet-blushing rose,
Nor all the gay flowers of the field,
Nor Tweed gliding gently thro' those.
Such beauty and pleasure doth yield.
The warblers are heard in the grove ;
The linnet the lark, and the thrush,
The blackbird, and sweet cooing dove,
With music enchant every bush.
Come, let us go forth to the mead,
Let’s see how the primroses spring,
We'd lodge in some village on Tweed,
And love, while the feather'd folk sing
How does my love pass the long day?
