their groves o'sweet myrtle
tune—“humours of glen.”
their groves o' sweet myrtle let fn nds re,
where bright-beaming summers exalt the perfume;
far dearer to me yon lone glen o' green bre,
wi' the burn stealing uhe ng, yellow broom.
far dearer to me are yon humble broom bowers
where the blue-bell and gowan lurk, lowly, unseen;
for there, lightly tripping, among the wild flowers,
a-list'ning the li, aft wanders my jean.
tho' rich is the breeze in their gay, sunny valleys,
and cauld caledonia's bst on the wave;
their sweet-sted woodnds that skirt the proud pace,
what are they?—the haunt of the tyrant and sve.
the sve's spicy forests, and gold-bubbling fountains,
the brave caledonian views wi' disdain;
he wanders as free as the winds of his mountains,
save love's williers—the s of his jean.