8
My Mary, dear departed shade!
Where is thy place of blissful rest?
See'st thou thy lover lowly laid?
Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?
Jessie the Flower o' Dumblane.
THE sun has gane down o'er the lofty Benlomon',
An' left the red clouds to preside o'er the scene,
While lanely I stray, in the calm simmer gloamin',
To muse on sweet Jessie the Flower o' Dumblane.
How sweet is the briar, wi' its fast saulding blossom,
An' sweet is the birk, wi' its mantle o' green;
Yet sweeter and fairer, and dear to this bosom,
Is lovely young Jessie, the Flower o' Dumblane.
Is lovely, &c.
She's modest as ony, and blythe as she's bonny,
For guileless simplicity marks her its ain:
An' far be the villain, divested of feeling,
Wha'd blight in its bloom the sweet Flower o' Dumblane.
Sing on, thou sweet mavis, thy hymn to the e'ening,
Thou'rt dear to the echoes o' Calderwood glen;
Sae dear to this bosom, sae artless and winning,
Is charming young Jessie, the Flower o' Dumblane.
Is lovely, &c.
How lost were my days till I met wi' my Jessie,
The sports o' the city seem'd foolish and vain,
I ne'er saw a nymph I could ca' my dear lassie,
Till charm'd wi' young Jessie, the Flower o' Dumblane.
Tho' mine were the station of loftieft grandeur,
Amidst its profusion I'd languish in vain,
An' reckon as naething the height o' its splendour,
If wanting sweet Jessie, the Flower o' Dumblane.
If wanting, &c.
