The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd Centenary Edition. With a Memoir of the Author, by the Rev. Thomas Thomson ... Poems and Life. With Many Illustrative Engravings [by James Hogg] |
 |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
|
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
|
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
|
| 1. |
The Gloamin'
|
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
|
|
| 1. |
|
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
|
|
|
|
|
 | The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd |  |
The Gloamin'
The gloamin' frae the welkin high
Had chased the bonny gouden gleam;
The curtain'd east, in crimson die,
Lay mirror'd on the tinted stream;
The wild-rose, blushing on the brier,
Was set wi' draps o' pearly dew,
As full and clear the bursting tear
That row'd in Ellen's een o' blue.
Had chased the bonny gouden gleam;
The curtain'd east, in crimson die,
Lay mirror'd on the tinted stream;
The wild-rose, blushing on the brier,
Was set wi' draps o' pearly dew,
As full and clear the bursting tear
That row'd in Ellen's een o' blue.
She saw the dear, the little cot,
Where fifteen years flew swiftly by,
An' sair she wail'd the hapless lot
That forced her frae that hame to fly.
Though blythe an' mild the e'ening smiled,
Her heart was rent wi' anguish keen;
The mavis ceased his music wild,
And wonder'd what her plaint could mean.
Where fifteen years flew swiftly by,
An' sair she wail'd the hapless lot
That forced her frae that hame to fly.
Though blythe an' mild the e'ening smiled,
Her heart was rent wi' anguish keen;
The mavis ceased his music wild,
And wonder'd what her plaint could mean.
A fringe was round the orient drawn,
A mourning veil it seem'd to be;
The star o' love look'd pale and wan,
As if the tear were in her e'e.
The dowie dell, the greenwood tree,
With all their inmates, seem'd to mourn;
Sweet Ellen's tears they doughtna see,
Departing never to return.
A mourning veil it seem'd to be;
The star o' love look'd pale and wan,
As if the tear were in her e'e.
The dowie dell, the greenwood tree,
With all their inmates, seem'd to mourn;
Sweet Ellen's tears they doughtna see,
Departing never to return.
Alas! her grief could not be spoke,
There were no words to give it name;
Her aged parents' hearts were broke,
Her brow imbued with burning shame.
That hame could she ne'er enter mair,
Ilk honour'd face in tears to see,
Where she so oft had join'd the prayer
Pour'd frae the heart so fervently.
There were no words to give it name;
Her aged parents' hearts were broke,
Her brow imbued with burning shame.
That hame could she ne'er enter mair,
Ilk honour'd face in tears to see,
Where she so oft had join'd the prayer
Pour'd frae the heart so fervently.
Ah, no! the die was foully cast,
Her fondest earthly hope was gone:
Her soul had brooded o'er the past,
Till pale despair remain'd alone.
Her heart abused, her love misused,
Her parents drooping to the tomb,
Weeping, she fled to desert bed,
To perish in its ample dome.
Her fondest earthly hope was gone:
Her soul had brooded o'er the past,
Till pale despair remain'd alone.
Her heart abused, her love misused,
Her parents drooping to the tomb,
Weeping, she fled to desert bed,
To perish in its ample dome.
| The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd | |