verses on the destruction of the woods near drumlanrig
as on the banks o' wandering nith,
ae smiling simmer morn i stray'd,
and traced its bonie howes and haughs,
where linties sang and lammies play'd,
i sat me down upon a craig,
and drank my fill o' fancy's dream,
when from the eddying deep below,
up rose the genius of the stream.
dark, like the frowning rock, his brow,
and troubled, like his wintry wave,
and deep, as sughs the boding wind
amang his caves, the sigh he gave—
“ande ye here, my son,” he cried,
“to wander in my birken shade?
to muse some favourite scottish theme,
or sing some favourite scottish maid?
“there was a time, it's nae lang syne,
ye might hae seen me in my pride,
when a' my banks sae bravely saw
their woody pictures in my tide;
when hanging beech and spreading elm
shaded my stream sae clear and cool:
and stately oaks their twisted arms
threw broad and dark across the pool;