fragment,—damon and sylvia

    tune—“the tither morn.”

    yon wandering rill that marks the hill,

    and glances o'er the brae, sir,

    slides by a bower, where mony a flower

    sheds fragrance on the day, sir;

    there damon lay, with sylvia gay,

    to love they thought no crime, sir,

    the wild birds sang, the echoes rang,

    while damon's heart beat time, sir.