II.
Lassie, say thou lo’es me;
Or if thou wilt no be my ain,
Say na thou’lt refuse me:
If it winna, canna be,
Thou, for thine may choose me,
Let me, lassie, quickly die,
Trusting that thou lo’es me.
Lassie, let me quickly die,
Trusting that thou lo’es me.
CCXVI.
BUT LATELY SEEN.
Tune—“The winter of life.”
[This song was written for Johnson’s Museum, in 1794: the air is East Indian: it was brought from Hindostan by a particular friend of the poet. Thomson set the words to the air of Gil Morrice: they are elsewhere set to the tune of the Death of the Linnet.]
I.
But lately seen in gladsome green,
The woods rejoiced the day;
Thro’ gentle showers and laughing flowers,
In double pride were gay:
But now our joys are fled
On winter blasts awa!
Yet maiden May, in rich array,
Again shall bring them a’.