| |
| STILL must my pipe lie idly by, | |
| And worldly cares my mind annoy? | |
| Again its softest notes I ’ll try, | |
| So dear a theme can never cloy. | |
| Last time my mountain harp I strung, | 5 |
| ’T was she inspired the simple strain,— | |
| That lovely flower, so sweet and young, | |
| The bonnie lass of Deloraine. | |
| |
| How blest the breeze’s balmy sighs | |
| Around her ruddy lips that blow; | 10 |
| The flower that in her bosom dies, | |
| Or grass that bends beneath her toe. | |
| Her cheeks, endowed with powers at will, | |
| The rose’s richest shade to drain; | |
| Her eyes, what soft enchantments fill! | 15 |
| The bonnie lass of Deloraine. | |
| |
| Let Athol boast her birchen bowers, | |
| And Lomond of her isles so green, | |
| And Windermere her woodland shores, | |
| Our Ettrick boasts a sweeter scene: | 20 |
| For there the evening twilight swells | |
| With many a wild and melting strain; | |
| And there the pride of beauty dwells,— | |
| The bonnie lass of Deloraine. | |
| |
| If Heaven shall keep her aye as good | 25 |
| And bonnie as she wont to be, | |
| The world may into Ettrick crowd, | |
| And nature’s first perfection see. | |
| Glencoe has drawn the wanderer’s eye, | |
| And Staffa in the western main; | 30 |
| These natural wonders ne’er can vie | |
| Wi’ the bonnie lass of Deloraine. | |
| |
| May health still cheer her beauteous face, | |
| And round her brow may honor twine, | |
| And Heaven preserve that heart in peace, | 35 |
| Where meekness, love, and beauty join! | |
| But all her joys shall cheer my heart, | |
| And all her griefs shall give me pain; | |
| For never from my soul shall part | |
| The bonnie lass of Deloraine. | 40 |
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