20
Ewes and lambs on braes ran bleating,
Linties sang on ilka tree,
Frae the west the sun, near setting,
Flamed on Roslin's towers sae hie.
Roslin's towers and braes sae bonny,
Craigs and water, woods and glen,
Roslin's banks! unpeered by ony,
Save the muse's Hawthorn den.
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 drapt asleep.
Soldier, rise! the dews of e'ening
Gathering fa' wi' deadly skaith!
Wounded soldier! if complaining
Sleep nae here to catch your death.
Traveller, waken!--night advancing,
Cleeds wi' gray the neebouring hill;
Lambs nae mair on knowes are dancing
A’ the woods are mute and still.
What hae I, cried Willie, waking,
What hae I frae night to dree?
Morn, through clouds in splendour breaking
Light's nae brightning hope to me.
