The Poetical Works of Thomas Pringle With A Sketch of his Life, by Leitch Ritchie |
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PLEASANT TEVIOTDALE. |
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 | The Poetical Works of Thomas Pringle |  |
X. PLEASANT TEVIOTDALE.
Her light touch wakes the tuneful keys,
She sings some simple lay,
That tells of scenes beyond the seas,
In Scotland far away,—
By “Ettrick banks,” or “Cowden knowes,”
Or “The briery braes o' Cayle,”
Or “Maxwell's bonny haughs and howes,”
In pleasant Teviotdale.
She sings some simple lay,
That tells of scenes beyond the seas,
In Scotland far away,—
By “Ettrick banks,” or “Cowden knowes,”
Or “The briery braes o' Cayle,”
Or “Maxwell's bonny haughs and howes,”
In pleasant Teviotdale.
O gentle wind ('tis thus she sings)
That blowest to the west,
Oh could'st thou waft me on thy wings
To the land that I love best,
How swiftly o'er the ocean foam
Like a sea-bird I would sail,
And lead my loved one blithely home
To pleasant Teviotdale!
That blowest to the west,
Oh could'st thou waft me on thy wings
To the land that I love best,
How swiftly o'er the ocean foam
Like a sea-bird I would sail,
And lead my loved one blithely home
To pleasant Teviotdale!
From spicy groves of Malabar
Thou greet'st me, fragrant breeze,
What time the bright-eyed evening star
Gleams o'er the orange trees;
Thou com'st to whisper of the rose
And love-sick nightingale—
But my heart is where the hawthorn grows,
In pleasant Teviotdale.
Thou greet'st me, fragrant breeze,
What time the bright-eyed evening star
Gleams o'er the orange trees;
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And love-sick nightingale—
But my heart is where the hawthorn grows,
In pleasant Teviotdale.
O that I were by Teviot side,
As when in Springwood bowers
I bounded, in my virgin pride,
Like fawn among the flowers;
When the beauty of the budding trees,
And the cuckoo's vernal tale,
Awoke the young heart's ecstacies,
In pleasant Teviotdale.
As when in Springwood bowers
I bounded, in my virgin pride,
Like fawn among the flowers;
When the beauty of the budding trees,
And the cuckoo's vernal tale,
Awoke the young heart's ecstacies,
In pleasant Teviotdale.
O that I were where blue-bells grow
On Roxburgh's ferny lea,
Where gowans glent and crow-flowers blow
Beneath the Trysting Tree;
Where blooms the birk upon the hill,
And the wild-rose down the vale,
And the primrose peeps by every rill,
In pleasant Teviotdale.
On Roxburgh's ferny lea,
Where gowans glent and crow-flowers blow
Beneath the Trysting Tree;
Where blooms the birk upon the hill,
And the wild-rose down the vale,
And the primrose peeps by every rill,
In pleasant Teviotdale.
O that I were where Cheviot-fells
Rise o'er the uplands grey,
Where moors are bright with heather-bells,
And broom waves o'er each brae;
Where larks are singing in the sky,
And milkmaids o'er the pail,
And shepherd swains pipe merrily,
In pleasant Teviotdale.
Rise o'er the uplands grey,
Where moors are bright with heather-bells,
And broom waves o'er each brae;
Where larks are singing in the sky,
And milkmaids o'er the pail,
And shepherd swains pipe merrily,
In pleasant Teviotdale.
O listen to my lay, kind love—
Say, when shall we return
Again to rove by Maxwell grove,
And the links of Wooden-burn?
Nay, plight thy vow unto me now,
Or my sinking heart will fail—
When I gaze upon thy pallid brow,
Far, far from Teviotdale!
Say, when shall we return
Again to rove by Maxwell grove,
And the links of Wooden-burn?
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Or my sinking heart will fail—
When I gaze upon thy pallid brow,
Far, far from Teviotdale!
Oh haste aboard! the favouring wind
Blows briskly from the shore.
Leave India's dear-bought dross behind
To such as prize it more:
Ah! what can India's lacs of gold
To withered hearts avail?
Then haste thee, love, ere hope wax cold,
And hie to Teviotdale!
Blows briskly from the shore.
Leave India's dear-bought dross behind
To such as prize it more:
Ah! what can India's lacs of gold
To withered hearts avail?
Then haste thee, love, ere hope wax cold,
And hie to Teviotdale!
| The Poetical Works of Thomas Pringle | |