II.

Phoebus gilding the brow o' morning, Banishes ilk darksome shade, Nature gladdening and adorning; Such to me my lovely maid. When absent frae my fair, The murky shades o' care With starless gloom o'ercast my sullen sky; But when, in beauty's light, She meets my ravish'd sight, When thro' my very heart Her beaming glories dart-- 'Tis then I wake to life, to light, and joy.

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