This page needs to be proofread.
SHEEP AMONG THE CHEVIOTS. 139
He led them on, in power and pride,
But ere the fray was o er, They on the blood-stained heather slept,
And he returned no more.
Graze on, graze on, there s many a rill
Bright-sparkling through the glade, Where ye may freely slake your thirst,
With none to make afraid ; There s many a wandering stream that flows
From Cheviot s terraced side, Yet not one drop of warrior s gore
Distains its crystal tide :
For Scotia from her hills hath come,
And Albion o er the Tweed, To give the mountain breeze the feuds
That made their noblest bleed, And, like two friends, around whose hearts
Some dire estrangement run, Love all the better for the past,
And sit them down as one.
�� �
