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.