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and mony a concubine;
But I enjoy a bliss mair true,
his joys were short of mine;
And Jeany’s happier than they.
She seldom wants her due,
All debts of love to her I pay,
and what’s that to yon?
A NEW SONG
BLow on ye winds, descend soft rain,
to soothe my tender woes;
Your solemn music lulls my pain,
and gives me short repose.
The sun that makes all nature gay,
disturbs my my weary’d eyes,
And in dark shades I wade the day,
where Echo sleeping lies.
Then pity me, O gentle love!
and come to my relief,
Lest innocence and virtue prove,
a sacrifice to grief.
F I N I S
