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STREAMS that glide in orient plains,
Glowing here on golden sands,
From tyranny's empurpled bands; These, their richly gleaming waves, I leave to tyrants and their slaves; Give me the stream that sweetly laves
The banks by Castle-Gordon.
Spicy forests, ever gay,
Hapless wretches sold to toil,
Bent on slaughter, blood, and spoil; Woods that ever verdant wave, I leave the tyrant and the slave; Give me the groves that lofty brave
The storms by Castle-Gordon.
Wildly here, without control,
In that sober pensive mood,
She plants the forest, pours the flood: The young Highland Rover.
Life's poor day I'll musing rave,
By bonnie Castle-Gordon.
THE YOUNG HIGHLAND ROVER.
Loud blaw the frosty breezes,
The snaws the mountains cover, Like winter on me seizes,
Since my young Highland Rover
Far wanders nations over. Where'er he go, where'er he stray,
May Heaven be his warden, Return him safe to fair Strathspey,
An' bonnie Castle-Gordon !
The trees, now naked groaning,
Shall soon wi' leaves be hinging, The birdies, dowie moaning,
Shall a' be blithely singing,
An' every flower be springing.
When, by his mighty warden,
An' bonnie Castle-Gordon.
TUNE—“The Caledonian Hunt's delight.”
THERE was once a day—but old Time then was
youngThat brave Caledonia, the chief of her line, From some of your northern deities sprung,
(Who knows not that brave Caledonia's divine ?) From Tweed to the Orcades was her domain,
To hunt, or to pasture, or do what she would : Her heavenly relations there fixed her reign,
And pledg’d her their godheads to warrant it good.
A lambkin in peace, but a lion in war,
The pride of her kindred the heroine grew : Her grandsire, old Odin, triumphantly swore, “Whoe’er shall provoke thee, th’ encounter shall
rue !” With tillage or pasture at times she would sport,
To feed her fair flocks by her green rustling corn; But chiefly the woods were her fav’rite resort,
Her darling amusement the hounds and the horn.
Long quiet she reign'd; till thitherward steers
A flight of bold eagles from Adria's strand :* Repeated, successive, for many long years,
They darken’d the air and they plunder'd the land;
* The Romans.
Their pounces were murder, and terror their cry,
They'd conquer'd and ruin'd a world beside; She took to her hills, and her arrows let fly
The daring invaders they fled or they died.
The fell harpy-raven took wing from the north,
To wanton in carnage and wallow in gore:t O'er countries and kingdoms their fury prevail'd,
No arts could appease them, no arms could repel; But brave Caledonia in vain they assail'd,
As Largs well can witness, and Loncartie tell. I
The Cameleon-savage disturb'd her repose,
With tumult, disquiet, rebellion, and strife; Provok'd beyond bearing, at last she arose,
And robb’d him at once of his hopes and hi slife;s The Anglian lion, the terror of France,
Oft prowling, ensanguin'd the Tweed's silver flood; But, taught by the bright Caledonian lance,
He learned to fear in his own native wood.
Thus bold, independent, unconquer'd, and free,
Her bright course of glory for ever shall run:
+ The Danes. The two famous battles in which the Danes or Norwegians were defeated. § The Highlanders of the Isles.
For brave Caledonia immortal must be;
I'll prove it from Euclid as clear as the sun: Rectangle-triangle the figure we'll choose
The upright is Chance, and old Time is the base; But brave Caledonia 's the hypothenuse; Then ergo, she 'll match them, and match them
MUSING ON THE ROARING OCEAN.
TUNE,“ Druimion Dubh."
[“ I composed these verses out of compliment to a Mrs. MacLachlan, whose husband is an officer in the East Indies.”-Burns. ]
Musing on the roaring ocean
Which divides my love and me;
For his weal, where'er he be.
Hope and fear's alternate billow
Yielding late to nature's law,
Talk of him that's far awa'.
Ye whom sorrow never wounded,
Ye who never shed a tear,
* This singular figure of poetry refers to the famous proposition of Pythagoras, the 47th of Euclid. In a right-angled triangle the square of the hypothenuse is always equal to the squares of the two other sides.