The Book of Scottish Song/Why hangs that cloud

Why hangs that cloud.

[Hamilton of Bangour.—This is published in the Orpheus Caledonius, 1725, adapted to the old air called "Hallowe'en."]

Why hangs that cloud upon thy brow,
That beauteous heav'n erewhile serene?
Whence do these storms and tempests blow?
Or what this gust of passion mean?
And must then mankind lose that light
Which in thine eyes was wont to shine,
And lie obscur'd in endless night,
For each poor silly speech of mine?

Dear child, how could I wrong thy name?
Thy form so fair and faultless stands,
That could ill tongues abuse thy fame,
Thy beauty would make large amends!
Or if I durst profanely try
Thy beauty's powerful charms t' upbraid,
Thy virtue well might give the lie,
Nor call thy beauty to its aid.

For Venus ev'ry heart ensnare,
With all her charms has deck'd thy face,
And Pallas with unusual care,
Bids wisdom heighten every grace.
Who can the double pain endure?
Or who must not resign the field
To thee, celestial maid, secure
With Cupid's bow and Pallas' shield?

If then to thee such power is giv'n,
Let not a wretch in torment live,
But smile, and learn to copy heav'n,
Since we must sin ere it forgive.
Yet pitying heav'n not only does
Forgive th' offender and th' offence,
But even itself appeas'd bestows
As the reward of penitence.

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