The Lass O' Livingston

Pain'd with her slighting Jamie's love,
Bell dropt a tear, Bell dropt a tear;
The gods descended from above,
Well pleased to hear, well pleased to hear;
They heard the praises of the youth,
From her own tongue, from her own tongue,
Who now converted was to truth,
And thus she sung, and thus she sung:

"Bless'd days! when our ingenuous sex,
More frank and kind, more frank and kind,
Did not their lov'd adorers vex,
But spoke their mind, but spoke their mind.
Repenting now, she promis'd fair,
Would he return, would he return,
She ne'er again would give him care,
Or cause him mourn, or cause him mourn.

Why lov'd I the deserving swain,
Yet still thought shame, yet still thought shame,
When he my yielding heart did gain,
To own my flame, to own my flame?
Why took I pleasure to torment,
And seem too coy-and seem too coy?
Which makes me now, alas! lament
My slighted joy, my slighted joy.

Ye fair, while beauty's in its spring,
Own your desire, own your desire;
While love's young power, with his soft wing,
Fans up the fire, fans up the fire.
Oh! do not with a silly pride,
Or low design, or low design,
Refuse to be a happy bride,
But answer plain, but answer plain."

Thus the fair mourner wail'd her crime,
With flowing eyes, with flowing eyes;
Glad Jamie heard her all the time,
With sweet surprise, with sweet surprise.
Some god had led him to the grove,
His mind unchang'd, his mind unchang'd,
Flew to her arms, and cry'd, My love,
I am reveng'd, I am reveng'd.