GUDE NIGHT AN' JOY BE WI' YOU A'.
O we hae wander'd far an' wide,
O'er Scotia's land of firth an' fell;
An' mony a simple flower we've cull'd,
An' twined them wi' the heather-bell:
We've ranged the dingle an' the dell,
The hamlet, an' the baron's ha',
Now let us tak' a kind farewell,
Gude night an' joy be wi' you a'.
Ye hae been kind as I was keen,
And follow'd where I led the way,
Till ilka poet's lore we've seen,
Of this an' mony a former day:
If e'er I led your steps astray,
Forgi'e your minstrel ance for a',
A tear fa's wi' his partin' lay,
Gude night an' joy be wi'
En unquam patrios, longo post tempore fines,
Post aliquot mea regna videns, mirabor aristas?
MELLOW thy notes, fond bird! thy small shrill voice,
Without a pause since morn, has rung along
The echoing glen;-the listening fawns rejoice,
Around me, at thy wild intrusive song.
My footsteps linger where thy melody
Floats soft around the gay liburnum's shade; Whose yellow drooping garlands round the tree, Diffuse fresh odours where thy songs pervade,
And die away in echoes;-mazing round
The waving forest boughs of glossiest green,
In smiling summer's verdure; bless'd the sound,
That wakes delight, and gladdens all the scene!
Here from the burning rays of noontide's sun,
Beneath the tangling hazel boughs again,
I sit me down, where the rippling waters run,
In mournful cadence past me throughout the glen.
Then eddying round yon woodbine-faced defile,
A beaming mirror leaps the white cascade,
Bright glancing to the sunshine's radiant smile,
Showering its spray around the coppiced glade,
Where hoary wild-thyme cushions o'er the rocks,
'Tis fair to view in such a lonely scene,
The stately tod-flax wave her yellow locks,
And starry-saxifrage around the green.
And sun-dew, with the whortle-berry's bell;
Like hectic maid, when love lights up her smile;
And laughing eye-bright, with the asphodel,
And rose-bay-willow, on the rock's defile;
And dusky crane's-bill blushing by her side,
And gaudy fox-glove's drooping purple bells,
And nodding hyacinth, the wild wood's pride,
And birds-eye-primrose, beauty of the dells.
The clustering hawthorn, fondling o'er the rose,
Shading the modest violet in its turn;
While the bright champion all her beauty shows,
Above the sparkling bosom of the burn.
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