Seraphim/The Flower o' Dumblane

by Robert Tannahill

For other versions of this work, see Jessie the Flower o' Dunblane.

HE FLOWER O DUMBLAIN.

The sun had gane down o'er the lofty Benlomond,
⁠An' let the red clouds in provide o'er the scene,
While lanely I stray'd in a calm simmer gloamin,
⁠To muse on sweet Jessy, the flower o' Dumblain.
How sweet is the brier, wi' its saft folding blossom,
⁠An' sweet is the birk, wi' its mantle o' green ;
Yet sweeter, an' fairer, an dear to this bosom,
⁠Is lovely young Jessy, the flower of Dumblain.
⁠Is lovely, &c.

She's modest as ony, an' blyth a she's bonny,
⁠For guileless simplicity marks her its ain;
An' far be the villain, divested o' feeling,
⁠Wad blight in its bloom the sweet flower o' Dumblain.
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, sea artless and winning,
⁠Is charming young Jessy, the flower o' Dumblain.
⁠Is charming, &c.

How lost were my days, till I met wi' my Jessy,
⁠The sports o' the city seemed foolish an' vain;
I ne'er saw a nymph I would ca' my dear lassie,
⁠Till charm'd wi' young Jessy, the flower of Dumblain.
Though mine were the station o' loftiest grandeur,
⁠Amidst its profusion I'd languish in pain,
An' reckon as naething the height o' its splendour,
⁠If wanting sweet Jessy, the flower o' Dumblain,
⁠I wanting, &c.

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