Heath flowers being a collection of poems, chiefly lyrical, written in the Highlands. By William Glen |
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THE MAID OF ORANSAY. |
 | Heath flowers |  |
49
THE MAID OF ORANSAY.
Let high Benledi rear its tap,
Crowned wi' a diadem o' snaw,
Or at its feet let hazels drap
Their diamonds on the leafy shaw;
Let storms owre wild Benlomond blaw,
An' chill the lambs on glen an' brae;—
The breeze plays sweetly far awa,
Amang the heaths of Oransay.
Crowned wi' a diadem o' snaw,
Or at its feet let hazels drap
Their diamonds on the leafy shaw;
Let storms owre wild Benlomond blaw,
An' chill the lambs on glen an' brae;—
The breeze plays sweetly far awa,
Amang the heaths of Oransay.
When tempests lash the foamin' waves,
An' a' aroun' is wild an' drear,
An' the wee Petterel, trembling, braves
The howling blast when death is near:
A stranger will I be to fear,
Tho' Corryvrechkins round me play;
I'll drap the last, the loneliest tear,
For the sweet Maid of Oransay.
An' a' aroun' is wild an' drear,
An' the wee Petterel, trembling, braves
The howling blast when death is near:
A stranger will I be to fear,
Tho' Corryvrechkins round me play;
I'll drap the last, the loneliest tear,
For the sweet Maid of Oransay.
50
O! Oransay's a lovely Isle,
It is a paradise to me;
For there the wildest beauties smile,
To warm the soul or glad the e'e:
Pure is the rapture yet to be,
When Mary gilds my darkened day,
An' mony a cheerfu' sun we'll see
Glint owre the bents of Oransay.
It is a paradise to me;
For there the wildest beauties smile,
To warm the soul or glad the e'e:
Pure is the rapture yet to be,
When Mary gilds my darkened day,
An' mony a cheerfu' sun we'll see
Glint owre the bents of Oransay.
The ocean-wave may heave its force,
And havoc mingle with the tide,
The roaring storm may wing its course,
And shake my Isle wi' noisy pride:
But whan I'm nestled by the side
Of her whom all my thoughts obey,
Reckless of storms, I'll clasp my bride,
The lovely Maid of Oransay.
And havoc mingle with the tide,
The roaring storm may wing its course,
And shake my Isle wi' noisy pride:
But whan I'm nestled by the side
Of her whom all my thoughts obey,
Reckless of storms, I'll clasp my bride,
The lovely Maid of Oransay.
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