437. Song—Thine am I, my faithful Fair
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HINE am I, my faithful Fair, Thine, my lovely Nancy;Ev’ry pulse along my veins, Ev’ry roving fancy.To thy bosom lay my heart, There to throb and languish;Tho’ despair had wrung its core, That would heal its anguish. Take away those rosy lips, Rich with balmy treasure;Turn away thine eyes of love, Lest I die with pleasure!What is life when wanting Love? Night without a morning:Love’s the cloudless summer sun, Nature gay adorning.
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