Heath flowers :: :: University of Virginia Library

Oh! aft I've heard the mavis' note,
Mingled wi' distant waterfa';
Whan gloamin's breeze brought them afloat,
Murmurin' owre Duchray's ruined wa',
When Herons, high in mid-air, prest
To wild Loch-Con, their lonely hame;
Whan darker frowned the mountain's breast,
I wont to meet my Jeanie Graham.

In Duchray's garden bloomed the rose,
Tho' withered and neglected now,
Its breast was white as the pure snows
That's piled up on Benlomond's brow;
Tho' it was fair, a bonnier flower
Bloomed in the wild, unknown to fame,
She might have graced a kingly bower—
The rose o' Duchray, Jeanie Graham.

Nae sorrow then disturbed my breast,
The joy of love my soul obeyed,
And I was blest, supremely blest,
And happy with my Highland Maid.

But pleasure is na' lasting here;
Woe marked me with unerring aim,
An' soon I wailed, wi' mony a tear,
The rose o' Duchray, Jeanie Graham.

Thy Isle, Monteith, received the Maid,
Thy waters round her dwelling flow;
An' aften, whan the evening shade
Steals owre the calm loch, lingering slow,
I wet the grave wi' sorrow's dew,
(My latest tear she well may claim)
For ne'er was Maid sae leal and true,
As Duchray's rose-bud, Jeanie Graham.