song.—the day returns

    tune—“seventh of november.”

    the day returns, my bosom burns,

    the blissful day we twa did meet:

    tho' winter wild in tempest toil'd,

    ne'er summer-sun was half sae sweet.

    than a' the pride that loads the tide,

    and crosses o'er the sultry line;

    than kingly robes, than crowns and globes,

    heav'n gave me more—it made thee mine!

    while day and night can bring delight,

    or nature aught of pleasure give;

    while joys above my mind can move,

    for thee, and thee alone, i live.

    when that grim foe of life below

    comes in between to make us part,

    the iron hand that breaks our band,

    it breaks my bliss—it breaks my heart!