155 JEAN Of a' the airts the wind can blaw I dearly like the West, For there the bonnie lassie lives, The lassie I lo'e best : There's wild woods grow, and rivers row, And mony a hill between ; But day and night my fancy's flight I see her in the dewy flowers, I hear her in the tunefu' birds, There's not a bonnie flower that springs By fountain, shaw, or green, There's not a bonnie bird that sings But minds me o' my Jean. O blaw ye westlin winds, blaw saft 5 10 15 20 What sighs and vows amang the knowes 26 Hae pass'd atween us twa! How fond to meet, how wae to part That night she gaed awa! The Powers aboon can only ken That nane can be sae dear to me As my sweet lovely Jean! R. BURNS. 30 156 JOHN ANDERSON John Anderson my jo, John, John Anderson my jo, John, And sleep thegither at the foot, 5 10 15 R. BURNS. 157 THE LAND O' THE LEAL I'm wearing awa', Jean, Like snaw when it's thaw, Jean, I'm wearing awa' To the land o' the leal. There's nae sorrow there, Jean, There's neither cauld nor care, Jean, The day is ay fair In the land o' the leal. Ye were ay leal and true, Jean, And I'll welcome you To the land o' the leal. 5 10 Our bonnie bairn 's there, Jean, To the land o' the leal! Then dry that tearfu' e'e, Jean, To the land o' the leal. In the land o' the leal. LADY NAIRNE. 15 20 158 ODE ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF Ye distant spires, ye antique towers And ye, that from the stately brow Of Windsor's heights th' expanse below Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers among His silver-winding way: Ah happy hills! ah pleasing shade ! Where once my careless childhood stray'd, I feel the gales that from ye blow A momentary bliss bestow, As waving fresh their gladsome wing My weary soul they seem to soothe, To breathe a second spring. 10 15 20 Say, Father Thames, for thou hast seen To chase the rolling circle's speed While some on earnest business bent Their murmuring labours ply 'Gainst graver hours, that bring constraint To sweeten liberty: Some bold adventurers disdain The limits of their little reign And unknown regions dare descry: Still as they run they look behind, Gay hope is theirs by fancy fed, And lively cheer, of vigour born; Alas! regardless of their doom No sense have they of ills to come Yet see how all around them wait 55 The Ministers of human fate And black Misfortune's baleful train! Ah show them where in ambush stand These shall the fury Passions tear, And Shame that skulks behind; That inly gnaws the secret heart, And grinning Infamy. The stings of Falsehood those shall try, That mocks the tear it forced to flow; And keen Remorse with blood defiled, Lo, in the vale of years beneath A griesly troop are seen, The painful family of Death, More hideous than their Queen : This racks the joints, this fires the veins, 35 That every labouring sinew strains, Lo, Poverty, to fill the band, That numbs the soul with icy hand, 90 To each his sufferings: all are men, The tender for another's pain, 94 Yet, ah! why should they know their fate, |