My dearie, if thou dee.
[This was written by Robert Crawfurd, and appears in the Tea-Table Miscellany, 1724. The beautiful air called "My dearie, if thou die" is older than Ramsay's day, but the original words of the song are supposed to be lost.]
Love never more shall give me pain,
My fancy's fix'd on thee:
Nor ever maid my heart shall gain,
My Peggie, if thou dee.
Thy beauties did such pleasure give,
Thy love's so true to me;
Without thee I shall never live,
My dearie, if thou dee.
If fate shall tear thee from my breast,
How shall I lonely stray!
In dreary dreams the night I'll waste,
In sighs the silent day.
I ne'er can so much virtue find,
Nor such perfection see:
Then I'll renounce all womankind,
My Peggie, after thee.
No new-blown beauty fires my heart,
With Cupid's raving rage;
But thine, which can such sweets impart,
Must all the world engage.
'Twas this that like the morning sun,
Gave joy and life to me;
And, when its destined day is done,
With Peggie let me dee.
Ye powers that smile on virtuous love,
And in such pleasures share,
Ye who its faithful flames approve,
With pity view the fair:
Restore my Peggie's wonted charms,
Those charms so dear to me;
Oh, never rob them from those arms—
I'm lost if Peggie dee.