Song—The Charms of Lovely Davies
O how shall I, unskilfuÂ’, try
The poetÂ’s occupation?
The tunefuÂ’ powers, in happy hours,
That whisper inspiration;
Even they maun dare an effort mair
Than aught they ever gave us,
Ere they rehearse, in equal verse,
The charms oÂ’ lovely Davies.
Each eye it cheers when she appears,
Like Phoebus in the morning,
When past the shower, and every flower
The garden is adorning:
As the wretch looks oÂ’er SiberiaÂ’s shore,
When winter-bound the wave is;
Sae droops our heart, when we maun part
Frae charming, lovely Davies.
Her smileÂ’s a gift frae Â’boon the lift,
That maks us mair than princes;
A sceptred hand, a kingÂ’s command,
Is in her darting glances;
The man in arms Â’gainst female charms
Even he her willing slave is,
He hugs his chain, and owns the reign
Of conquering, lovely Davies.
My Muse, to dream of such a theme,
Her feeble powers surrender:
The eagleÂ’s gaze alone surveys
The sunÂ’s meridian splendour.
I wad in vain essay the strain,
The deed too daring brave is;
IÂ’ll drap the lyre, and mute admire
The charms oÂ’ lovely Davies.
Poems by Robert Burns
