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88 TONE-POETRY OF ROBERT BURNS |
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No. 93. Their groves 0' sweet myrtle.
Tune : Humours of Glen Thomson's Scotish Airs, 1799, p. 95. |
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Their groves o' sweet myrtle let foreign lands reckon,
Where bright-beaming summers exalt the perfume; Far dearer to me yon lone glen o' green breckan,
Wi' the burn stealing under the lang, yellow broom; Far dearer to me are yon humble broom bowers,
Where the bluebell and gowan lurk lowly, unseen ; For there, lightly tripping amang the wild flowers,
A-list'ning the linnet, aft wanders my Jean.
Tho' rich is the breeze in their gay, sunny vallies,
And cauld Caledonia's blast on the wave, Their sweet-scented woodlands that skirt the proud palace,
What are they?—The haunt of the tyrant and slave! The slave'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 willing fetters—the chains o' his Jean. |
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