Sleep'st thou, or wak'st thou, fairest creature ?
Rosy morn now lifts his eye,
Numbering ev'ry bud which Nature
Waters wi' the tears of joy.
Now, to the streaming fountain,
Or up the heathy mountain,
The hart, hind, and roe, freely, wildly-wanton stray ;
In twining hazel bowers
His lay the linnet pours;
The lavrock, to the sky
Ascends wi' sangs o' joy;
While the sun and thou arise to bless the day !

Phoebus, gilding the brow of the morning,
Banishes ilk darksome shade,
Nature gladdening and adorning :
Such to me my lovely maid !
When frae my [Chloris]1 parted,
Sad, cheerless, broken-hearted,
Then night's gloomy shades, cloudy, dark, o'ercast my sky;
But when she charms my sight
In pride of beauty's light;
When through my very heart
Her beaming glories dart;
'Tis then -- 'tis then, I wake to life and joy!