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And yet her voice is in my dreams,
Lightly I sped when hope was high,
Shall never see her Face.
OPEN THE TEMPLE GATES.
Open the temple gates unto my love,
With trembling steps and humble reverence
Bring her up to the high altar, that she may
OPEN THE TEMPLE GATES. The praises of the Lord in lively notes: The whiles, with hollow throats,
The choristers the joyous anthem sing,
That all the woods may answer, and their echo ring.
Behold, whiles she before the altar stands,
That even the angels, which continually
Forget their service, and about her fly,
Oft peeping in her face, that seems more fair The more they on it stare.
But her sad eyes, still fastened on the ground, Are governed with goodly modesty,
That suffers not one look to glance awry, Which may let in a little thought unsound. Why blush ye, love, to give to me your hand, The pledge of all our band?
Sing, ye sweet angels, allelulia sing,
That all the woods may answer, and your echo
CUPID AND CAMPASPE.
Cupid and my Campaspe played
He stakes his quiver, bow, and arrows,
Growing on's cheek, but none knows how;
FAIR IS MY LOVE.
Fair is my love, and cruel as she's fair;
Her smiles are lightening, though her pride de
And her disdains are gall, her favors honey.
A modest maid, decked with the blush of honor, Whose feet do tread green paths of youth and
YE NEEDNA' BE COURTIN' AT ME. 127
The wonder of all eyes that look upon her!
There is no life on earth but being in love!
YE NEEDNA' BE COURTIN' AT ME.
"Ye needna' be courtin' at me, auld man, Ye needna' be courtin' at me;
Ye're threescore an' three, an' ye're blin' o' an e'e,
"Stan' aff, noo, an' just lat me be, auld man, Stan' aff, noo, just lat me be;
Ye're auld an' ye're cauld, an' ye're blin', an' ye're bald,
An' ye're nae for a lassie like me, auld man,
"Ha'e patience, an' hear me a wee, sweet lass, Ha'e patience an' hear me a wee;
I've gowpens o' gowd, an' an aumry weel stow'd, An' a heart that lo'es nane but thee, sweet lass, A heart that lo'es nane but thee."
"I'll busk you as braw as a queen, sweet lass, I'll busk you as braw as a queen;
I've guineas to spare, an', hark ye, what's mair, I'm only twa score an' fifteen, sweet lass,
Only twa score and fifteen."
"Gae hame to your gowd an' your gear, auld man,