Poems, on sacred and other subjects and songs, humorous and sentimental: By the late William Watt. Third edition of the songs only--with additional songs |
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THE MAID OF COWAL. |
 | Poems, on sacred and other subjects |  |
384
THE MAID OF COWAL.
Beside Adrossan castle wa',
Awee before the dew did fa',
I met a lass surpassing a',
The brawest Maid of Cowal.
The rosebud and the lily meek
Sweet blended on her glowin' cheek;
An e'e that to the heart could speak,
Sweet, graced the Maid of Cowal.
Awee before the dew did fa',
I met a lass surpassing a',
The brawest Maid of Cowal.
The rosebud and the lily meek
Sweet blended on her glowin' cheek;
An e'e that to the heart could speak,
Sweet, graced the Maid of Cowal.
The finest form, the sweetest face,
That e'er a Scottish lass did grace,
Maun surely evermair gi'e place
To her, the Maid of Cowal.
Wi' stately step she glided on,
Wi' mien that weel might grace a throne;
In a' her airs perfection shone,
Wi' her, the Maid of Cowal.
That e'er a Scottish lass did grace,
Maun surely evermair gi'e place
To her, the Maid of Cowal.
Wi' stately step she glided on,
Wi' mien that weel might grace a throne;
In a' her airs perfection shone,
Wi' her, the Maid of Cowal.
O blissful hour, when out I stray'd
To where I met that lovely maid,
In those enchanting charms array'd
Which grace the Maid of Cowal.
To see her mild angelic smile
Would cheer the weary pilgrim's toil—
The hermit frae his cell could wile—
To follow her to Cowal.
To where I met that lovely maid,
In those enchanting charms array'd
Which grace the Maid of Cowal.
To see her mild angelic smile
Would cheer the weary pilgrim's toil—
The hermit frae his cell could wile—
To follow her to Cowal.
What e'e but beams wi' rapture's rays!
What heart but glows in transport's blaze!
When love her masterwork displays,
The peerless Maid of Cowal!
On Monarchs' crowns let diamonds shine,
Round heroes' brows let laurels twine,
Mair dear to me's the smile divine
Of her, the Maid of Cowal.
What heart but glows in transport's blaze!
When love her masterwork displays,
The peerless Maid of Cowal!
On Monarchs' crowns let diamonds shine,
Round heroes' brows let laurels twine,
Mair dear to me's the smile divine
Of her, the Maid of Cowal.
| Poems, on sacred and other subjects | |