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JESSIE, THE FLOWER O DUNBLANE The sun has gane down o'er the lofty Benlomond,
And 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' Dunblane. How sweet is the brier, wi' its saft faulding blossom,
And 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' Dunblane.
She's modest as ony, and blythe as she's bonny;
For guileless simplicity marks her its ain; And far be the villain, divested o' feeling,
Wha'd blight, in its bloom, the sweet flower o’ Dunblane. Sing on, thou sweet mavis, thy hymn to the e'ening,
Thou’rt dear to the echoes of Calderwood glen; Sae dear to this bosom, sae artless and winning,
Is charming young Jessie, the flower o’ Dunblane
How lost were my days till I met wi' my Jessie,
The sports o' the city seemed foolish and vain; I ne'er saw a nymph I would ca’ my dear lassie,
Till charm'd wi' sweet Jessie, the flower o’ Dunblane
Amidst its profusion I'd languish in pain;
If wanting sweet Jessie, the flower o' Dunblane.
GLOOMY WINTER's Now Awa'
GLOOMY winter's now awa',
Saft the westlan' breezes blaw, 'Mang the birks o' Stanley-shaw
The mavis sings fu' cheerie, O!
Sweet the crawflower's early bell
My young, my artless dearie, O!
Come, my lassie, let us stray
'Midst joys that never weary, 0!
Adorn the banks sae briery, O!
Round the sylvan fairy nooks
And ilka thing is cheerie, O!
Unless wi' thee, my dearie, O!
[1770-1850] 364 ODE ON INTIMATIONS OF IMMORTALITY FROM RECOLLEC
TIONS OF EARLY CHILDHOOD
THERE was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
To me did seem
Apparell'd in celestial light,
Turn wheresoe'er I may,
By night or day, The things which I have seen I now can see no more! 1 Larks. 2 Silver willows.
3 Brakes. * Dodges. o Each.
The rainbow comes and goes,
The moon doth with delight
Waters on a starry night
Are beautiful and fair;
But yet I know, where'er I go,
Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song,
As to the tabor's sound,
And I again am strong.
And all the earth is gay;
Land and sea
And with the heart of May
Thou child of joy
Ye blesséd creatures, I have heard the call
Ye to each other make; I see
My heart is at your festival,
My head hath its coronal,
O evil day! if I were sullen
This sweet May morning;
On every side,
In a thousand valleys far and wide,
Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm, And the babe leaps up on his mother's arm:
I hear, I hear, with joy I hear!
-But there's a tree, of many, one,
The pansy at my feet
Doth the same tale repeat: Whither is fled the visionary gleam? Where is it now, the glory and the dream? Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting; The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting
And cometh from afar;
And not in utter nakedness,
From God, who is our home:
Upon the growing boy,
He sees it in his joy;
And by the vision splendid
Is on his way attended;
And no unworthy aim,
The homely nurse doth all she can To make her foster-child, her inmate, Man,
Forget the glories he hath known And that imperial palace whence he came.
Behold the Child among his new-born blisses,
A wedding or a festival,
And this hath now his heart,
Then will he fit his tongue
But it will not be long
And with new joy and pride
As if his whole vocation
Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie
Thy soul's immensity;
Mighty Prophet! Seer blest!
On whom those truths do rest