Tune—"Robin Adair."

While larks, with little wing,

Fann'd the pure air,

Tasting the breathing Spring,

Forth I did fare:

Gay the sun's golden eye

Peep'd o'er the mountains high;

Such thy morn! did I cry,

Phillis the fair.

In each bird's careless song,

Glad I did share;

While yon wild-flowers among,

Chance led me there!

Sweet to the op'ning day,

Rosebuds bent the dewy spray;

Such thy bloom! did I say,

Phillis the fair.

Down in a shady walk,

Doves cooing were;

I mark'd the cruel hawk

Caught in a snare:

So kind may fortune be,

Such make his destiny,

He who would injure thee,

Phillis the fair.