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her faultless form and gracefu' air;

ilk feature—auld nature

declar'd that she could do nae mair:

hers are the willing chains o' love,

by conquering beauty's sovereign law;

and still my chloris' dearest charm—

she says, she lo'es me best of a'.

let others love the city,

and gaudy show, at sunny noon;

gie me the lonely valley,

the dewy eve and rising moon,

fair beaming, and streaming,

her silver light the boughs amang;

while falling; recalling,

the amorous thrush concludes his sang;

there, dearest chloris, wilt thou rove,

by wimpling burn and leafy shaw,

and hear my vows o' truth and love,

and say, thou lo'es me best of a'.