19 Roslin's towers, and braes sae bonnie, Craigs and water, woods and glen- Roslin's banks, unpeered by ony, Save the Muses' Hawthornden ! * Ilka sound and charm delighting, Will (though hardly fit to gang) Wandered on through scenes inviting, Listening to the mavis' sang. Faint at length, the day fast closing, On a fragrant strawberry steep, Esk's sweet stream to rest composing, Wearied nature drapped asleep. “Soldier, rise--the dews o' e'ening Gathering fa', wi' deadly scaith; Wounded soldier, if complaining, Sleep na here and catch your death. Traveller, waken-night advancing, Cleads wi' gray the neighbouring hill; Lambs nae mair on knowes are dancing A' the woods are mute and still." “What ha'e I?” cried Willie, waking- "What ha'e I frae night to dree? Morn, through clouds in splendour breaking, Lights nae brightning hope to me. House, nor hame, nor farm, nor steading, Wife nor bairns ha'e I to see ; House, nor hame, nor bed, nor bedding- What ha'e I frae night to dree?”
- The ancient seat of the celebrated poet, William
rummond, who flourished 1585-1649.
