North country lass/May-Eve: or, Kate of Aberdeen

May-Eve: or, Kate of Aberdeen.

THe siver moon’s enamour’d beams,
steals softly through the night,
To wanton with the winding streams,
and kiss reflected light:
To courts begone! heart soothing sleep,
where you’ve so seldom been,
Whilst I-May’s wakeful vigil keep,
with Kate of Aberdeen.

The nymphs and swains expectant wait,
in primrose chaplet’s gay,
Till morn unbars her golden gate,
and gives the promis’d May.
The nymphs shall all declare,
the promis’d May, when seen,
Not half so fragrant, half so fair,
as Kate of Aberdeen.

I’ll tune my pipe, and playful notes,
and rouse yon nodding grove,
Till new wak’d birds distend their throats,
and hail the maid I love,
At her approach the lark mistakes,
and quits the new-dress’d green,
Fond birds, 'tis new the moaning breaks,
tis Kate of Aberdeen.

Now blithsome o’er the dewy mead,
where elves disportive play, The festal dance young shepherds lead,
or sing their love tun’d lay:
Till May, in morning robe draws nigh,
and claims a virgin Queen,
The nymphs and swains exulting cry,
“here’s Kate of Aberdeen,”