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‹‹‹ prev (101) Page 399Page 399Orananaoig or, The song of death

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(102) Page 400 - Afton Water
Aft on Water
Thou ftock dove whole echo refounds thro' the glen,
Ye wild whittling blackbirds in yon thorny den,
Thou green crefted lapwing thy fcreaming forbear,
t charge you difturb not my Qumbering Fair.
How lofty, fweet Afton, thy neighbouring hills,
Far mark'd with the courfes of clear, winding rills;
There daily I wander as noon rifes high,
My flocks and my 'Mary's fweet Cot in my eye.
How pleafant thy banks and green vallies below,
Where wild in the woodlands the primrofes blow;.
There oft as mild ev'ning weeps over the lea,
The fweet fecnted birk (hades my Mary and me .
Thy chryftal ftream, Afton, how lovely it glides,
And winds by the cot where my Mary refides;
How wanton thy waters her fnowy feet lave,
As gathering fweet flowerets fhe ftems thy clear wave.
Flow gently, fweet Alton, among thy green braes,
Flow gently, fweet River, the theme of my lays ;
My Mary's afleep by thy murmuring ftream,
Flow- gently, fweet Afton, difturb not her dream.

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