(1817) 18171817 I’ve gaz’d on many a beauteous scene, In distant climes, where sunny skies Smile on the vales of living green, And torrents roll, and mountains rise: But not in lands more warm and bright,’ Mid valleys rich, & heights sublime, Does the eye rest with deep delight On mingling beauties such as thine. Whether, when morning’s golden ray, Clothes thee in splendour, life, & light, Or on thy gushing fountains play The cold moonbeam, or sweet twilight; Or bosom of thy

How sweetly does the moonbeam smile To-night upon yon leafy isle! Oft in my fancy’s wanderings, I’ve wish’d that little isle had wings, And we, within its fairy bow’rs, Were wafted off to seas unknown, Where not a pulse should beat but ours, And we might live, love, die alone! Far from the cruel and the cold, —Where the bright eyes of angels only Should come around us, to behold A paradise so pure and lonely!

Sweet be her dreams, the fair, the young! Grace—Beauty, breathe upon her! Music, haunt thou around her tongue! Life, fill her path with honour! All golden thoughts, all wealth of days, Truth, Friendship, Love surround her! So may she smile till life be closed, And angel hands have crowned her!

The cheerfu’ supper done, wi’ serious face, They, round the ingle, form a circle wide; The sire turns o’er, wi’ patriarchal grace, The big ha’-Bible, ance his father’s pride; His bonnet rev’rently is laid aside, His lyart haffets wearing thin an’ bare; Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, He wales a portion with judicious care; And “Let us worship God!” he says, with solemn air. They chant their artless notes in simple guise; They tune their hearts, by far the nob

Ofttimes though I was ’neath the brightest of skies, In dreams I revisit my dear native shore; Wherever he wanders, O Scotia, still sighs Thy love for thy highlands he looks on no more! Thy highlands! thy highlands! the loch & the glory Where the kilt & the tartan & bonnets of blue Are worn by the bravest & boldest of men, In dreams still I chase the wild red deer at morn, Exultant and strong in the free mountain air, While the rocks echo back the shrill blast of the horn, An