| |
| O HOW shall I, unskilfu’, try | |
| The poet’s occupation? | |
| The tunefu’ powers, in happy hours, | |
| That whisper inspiration; | |
| Even they maun dare an effort mair | 5 |
| Than aught they ever gave us, | |
| Ere they rehearse, in equal verse, | |
| The charms o’ lovely Davies. | |
| |
| Each eye it cheers when she appears, | |
| Like Phoebus in the morning, | 10 |
| When past the shower, and every flower | |
| The garden is adorning: | |
| As the wretch looks o’er Siberia’s shore, | |
| When winter-bound the wave is; | |
| Sae droops our heart, when we maun part | 15 |
| Frae charming, lovely Davies. | |
| |
| Her smile’s a gift frae ’boon the lift, | |
| That maks us mair than princes; | |
| A sceptred hand, a king’s command, | |
| Is in her darting glances; | 20 |
| The man in arms ’gainst female charms | |
| Even he her willing slave is, | |
| He hugs his chain, and owns the reign | |
| Of conquering, lovely Davies. | |
| |
| My Muse, to dream of such a theme, | 25 |
| Her feeble powers surrender: | |
| The eagle’s gaze alone surveys | |
| The sun’s meridian splendour. | |
| I wad in vain essay the strain, | |
| The deed too daring brave is; | 30 |
| I’ll drap the lyre, and mute admire | |
| The charms o’ lovely Davies. | |
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