Glen Collection of printed music > Printed text > Scottish songs > Volume 2

336
Oh, where is the maid that like thee ne'er can cloy,
Whose wit can enliven each dull pause of joy ;
And when the short raptures are all at an end,
From beautiful mistress turn sensible friend ?
In vain do I praise thee, or strive to reveal,
(Too nice for expression,) what only we feel :
In a' that ye do, in each look and each mien,
The graces in waiting adorn you unseen.
When I see you I love you, when hearing adore ;
I wonder and think you a woman no more :
Till, mad wi' admiring, I canna contain,
And, kissing your lips^ you turn woman again.
With thee in my bosom, how can I despair ?
I'll gaze on thy beauties, and look awa care ;
I'll ask thy advice, when with troubles opprest.
Which never displeases, but always is best.
In all that I write I'll thy judgment require ;
Thy wit shall correct what thy charms did inspire.
I'll kiss thee and press thee till youth is all o'er,
And then live in friendship, when passion's no more.*
* This impassioned lyric is said to have been tlie composition of Dr
Alexander Webster, one of the ministers of Edinburgh, who died in 1784.
There is a tradition, that he wrote it in early life, in consequence of a lady
of superior rank, whom he was engaged to woo for another, condescending
to betray a passion for him. He was a young man about the year 1740,
when he was distinguished by his concern in a strange species of religious
madness, which possessed the people of Cambuslang in Lanarkshire, gene-
rally termed " The Cambuslang Wark."
I subjoin a different and less copious version, copied from the Scots Ma-
gazine ifor November, 1747. It is probable that this is the author's first
draught of the song, and that it never was printed in any shape before.
O, how could I venture to love one like thee.
Or thou not despise a poor conquest like me !
On lords thy admirers could look with disdain,
And though I was nothing, yet pity my pain !
You said, when they teased you with nonsense and dress.
When real the passion, the vanity's less ;
You saw through that silence which others despise,
And, while beaux were prating, read love in my eyes.
Oh ! where is the nymph that like thee ne'er can cloy.
Whose wit can enliven the dull pause of joy ;
And, when the sweet transport is all at an end.
From beautiful mistress turn sensible friend !