The scented birk, and glossy beech,
Hang o'er thee for thy simmer veil;
And gowany haughs[1] aroond thee bloom,
Where shepherds tauld love's tender tale.
Sweet Esk, glide o'er thy rocky path,
And echo through thy classic glen;
Where can we match, in flowery May,
Fair Habbie's Howe, and Hawthornden?
Alex. Farquharson.
Lanely Bield. Carlops, 1885.
MONK'S BURN.
Doon in Monk's bonnie verdant glen
A sparklin' birnie murmurs through
Dark waving pines, 'mang hazel shaws
Decked with the hawk-weed's golden hue.
It ripples aft 'neath ferny banks
With fragrant birks and briers spread
Till o'er the linn its echo sings,
Deep cradled in a rocky bed.
Here Auld Dame Nature gaily haps
Frae ilka side her crystal streams;
And soaring high o'er leafy bowers,
On hovering wing, the falcon screams.
Aboon Glaud's yaird the burnie meets
Esk dancing to the morning sun,
An' glintin' bonnie through Monk's Haugh,[2]
Where Pate and Peggie[3] aft hae run;
Noo joined wi' silv'ry limpid Esk,
Gangs merrily singing tae the sea.
Ilk bird and flower the chorus join
Till wilds and braes resound wi' glee.
Sing on, ye warblers 'mang the trees,
Bloom fair, ye blue-bells on the plains,
And deck the banks of infant rills
That wander through my native glens.
Alex. Farquharson.
Lanely Bield, 16th January 1886.
