The Lament of Flora M'Donald/Go, Plaintive Sounds

by Anonymous

GO, PLAINTIVE SOUNDS.

Go, plaintive sounds! and to the fair,
My secret wounds impart,
Tell all I hope, tell all I fear,
Each motion in my heart.
But she methinks is list'ning now,
To some enchanting strain,
The smile that triumphs o'er her brow,
Seems not to heed my pain.

Yes, plaintive sounds, yet, yet delay,
Howe'er my love repine,
Let that gay minute pass away,
The next perhaps is thine.
Yes, plaintive sounds, no longer crost,
Your griefs shall soon be o'er,
Her cheek undimpled now has lost,
The smile it lately wore.

Yes, plaintive sounds, she now is yours,
'Tis now your time to move;
Easy to soften all her pow'rs,
And he that softens love.
Cease, plaintive sounds, your task is done,
 That anxious tender air,
Proves o'er her heart the conquest won,
 I see you melting there.

Return, ye smiles, return again,
 Return each sprightly grace,
I yield up to your charming reign,
 All that enchanting face.
I take no outward shew amiss,
 Rove where they will, her eyes.
Still let her smiles each shepherd bless,
 So she but hear my sighs.

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