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.