 | The Poetical Works of William Drummond of Hawthornden
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Son. [xvii]
[With flaming Hornes the Bull now brings the Yeare]
With flaming Hornes the Bull now brings the Yeare,
Melt doe the horride Mountaines Helmes of Snow,
The siluer Flouds in pearlie Channells flow,
The late-bare Woods greene Anadeams doe weare.
The Nightingall forgetting Winters Woe,
Calls vp the lazie Morne her Notes to heare,
Those Flowrs are spred which Names of Princes beare,
Some red, some azure, white, and golden grow.
Here lowes a Heifer, there bea-wailing strayes.
A harmelesse Lambe, not farre a Stag rebounds,
The Sheepe-heards sing to grazing Flockes sweet Layes,
And all about the Ecchoing Aire resounds.
Hills, Dales, Woods, Flouds, & euery thing doth change,
But Shee in Rigour, I in Loue am strange.
| The Poetical Works of William Drummond of Hawthornden
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