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(390) Page 382 - Tarry woo
come, my love ! and bring anew
That gentle turn of mind ;
That gracefulness of air in you
By nature's hand designed.
These, lovely as the blushing rose,
First lighted up this flame,
Which, like the sun, for ever glows
Within my breast the same.
Ye light coquettes ! ye airy things !
How vain is all your art !
How seldom it a lover brings !
How rarely keeps a heart !
gather from my Nelly's charms
That sweet, that graceful ease,
That blushing modesty that warms,
That native art to please !
Come then, my love ! 0, come along !
And feed me with thy charms ;
Come, fair inspirer of my song !
Oh, fill my longing arras !
A flame like mine can never die,
While charms so bright as thine,
So heavenly fair, both please the ej'e,
And fill the soul divine !
There are very few sentimental songs of the north countrie
otherwise than upon love. One of that exceptive character, long
held in great favour in the pastoral regions of Tweed and Teviot,
is devoted to the exaltation of the pastoral craft, under the
general idea of the tarry wool in which it deals. This ditty was
published in the Tea-table Miscellany, and the air in M'Gibbon's
first collection.

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