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.