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But soon is thy heaven, bright beaming,
O’ercast with the darkness of woe.
Yes the moon, on the oft-changing ocean
Delights the lone mariner’s eye.
Till red rush the storms of the desert,
And dark billows tumble on high.
GLOOMY WINTER.
Gloomy winter’s now awo,
Saft the western breezes blaw:
Mang the birks o’ Stanely shaw,
The mavis sings fu’ cheery O,
Sweet the craw-flower’s early bell,
Decks Gleniffer’s dewy dell,
Blooming like thy bonny sel’.
My young, my artless dearie O.
Come, my lassie, let us stray,
O'er Glenkilloch’s sunny brae,
Blythly spend the gowden day,
’Midst joys that never weary O.
Tow’ring o’er the Newton woods,
Lav’rocks fan the snaw white clouds;
Siller saugks, wi’ downy buds,
