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I dreamt I lay where flowers were springing

Gaily in the sunny beam ;
Listening to the wild birds singing,

By a falling, crystal stream :
Straight the sky grew black and daring ;

Through the woods the whirlwinds rave ;
Trees with aged arms were warring,

O'er the swelling, drumlie * wave.

Such was my life's deceitful morning,

Such the pleasures I enjoyed;
But long e'er noon, loud tempests storming,

All my flowery bliss destroyed.
Though fickle fortune has deceived me,

She promised fair, and performed but ill,
Of many a joy and hope bereaved me,
I bear a heart shall support me still.



My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not


My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer, Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe, My heart's in the highlands wherever I go.

* Troubled.

Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North,
The birth-place of valour, the country of worth;
Wherever I wander, wherever I rove,
The hills of the Highlands for ever I love.

Farewell to the mountains high covered with

snow; Farewell to the straths and green valleys below; Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods; Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods.

My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not

here: My heart's in the Highlands, a-chasing the deer;

My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go !



The lazy mist hangs from the brow of the hill, Concealing the course of the dark-winding rill ; How languid the scenes, late so sprightly,

appear, As Autumn to Winter resigns the pale year! The forests are leafless, the meadows are brown, And all the gay foppery of Summer is flown:

E 2

As Autorests are foppery

Apart let me wander, apart let me muse,
How quick time is flying, how keen fate

pursues ; How long I have lived, but how much lived in

vain : How little of life's scanty span may remain : What aspects, old Time, in his progress has

worn; What ties, cruel fate in my bosom has torn. How foolish, or worse, till our summit is gained ! And downward, how weakened, how darkened,

how pained ! This life's not worth having with all it can give, For something beyond it poor man sure must




Musing on the roaring ocean

Which divides my love and me;
Wearying Heaven in warm devotion,

For his weal, where'er he be.

Hope and fears alternate billow

Yielding late to nature's law;
Whispering spirits round my pillow

Talk of him that's far awa.

Ye whom sorrow never wounded,

Ye who never shed a tear ;
Care-untroubled, joy-surrounded,

Gaudy day to you is dear.

Gentle night, do thou befriend me;

Downy sleep, the curtain draw;
Spirits kind, again attend me,
Talk of him that's far awa!



Thou lingering star, with less'ning ray,

That lov'st to greet the early morn, Again thou usher'st in the day

My Mary from my soul was torn. O Mary! dear departed shade!

Where is thy place of blissful rest ? Seest thou thy lover lowly laid ?

Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast ?

That sacred hour can I forget ?

Can I forget the hallowed grove, Where by the winding Ayr we met,

To live one day of parting love ?

Eternity will not efface

Those records dear of transports past; Thy image at our last embrace ;

Ah! little thought we 'twas our last !

Ayr gurgling kissed his pebbled shore,

O’erhung with wild woods, thick’ning green; The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar,

'Twined amorous round the raptured scene. The flowers sprang wanton to be prest,

The birds sang love on every spray, Till too, too soon, the glowing west

Proclaimed the speed of winged day.

Still o'er these scenes niy memory wakes,

And fondly broods with miser care ! Time but the impression deeper makes,

As streams their channels deeper wear. My Mary, dear departed shade !

Where is thy blissful place of rest? Seest thou thy lover lowly laid ? Hears't thou the groans that rend his breast !


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