437. Song—Thine am I my faithful Fair

by
 THINE 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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