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.