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See the Beautious River run,
See every Billow Rowling on,
Trees and flowers Court the Sun,
In yonder shady Wood,
But when Cynthia does appear,
To bless my Eyes with all that's fair,
Ah! what Beauty can compare
To Charming Flesh and Blood;
Nature all her Rural Joys,
At large exposes to our Eyes,
But Hills and Valleys, Air and Skyes
Henceforth let fools admire;
Cynthia that my Life may be,
Crown'd with true felicity,
Let my Prospect still be thee
No other I'll desire.
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A Scotch Song.
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[Music ]
