MATTHIE, nae mair! ye'se gang your lane! Tak' my best wishes wi' ye, An' may guid fortun' owre the main An' snugly settled bee ye! I wuss ye weel! the kintra's lairge, An ye're but twa wi' Mary; Ye'll shortly hae the owner's chairge Nae doot o' half a prairie. There's ample room in sic a park To foond a score o' nations, An' flourish like a patriarch Amon' your generations. But me may Scotland's bonnie hills Maintain to utmost auld age, Leadin' my flocks by quiet rills, An' lingerin' thro' the gold age; Untemptit wi' a foreign gain That mak's ye merely laird o't, An' thinkin' Scotland a' min' ain Tho' ownin' ne'er a yaird o't! What hills are like the Ochil hills? There's nane sae green, tho' grander; What rills are like the Ochil rills? Nane, nane on earth that wander! There Spring returns amon' the sleet, Ere Winter's tack be near thro'; There Spring an' Simmer fain wad meet To tarry a' the year thro'! An' there in green Glendevon's shade A grave at last be found me, Wi' daisies growin' at my head An' Devon lingerin' round me! Nae stane disfigurement o' grief Wi' lang narration rise there; A line wad brawly serve, if brief, To tell the lave wha lies there. But ony sculptur'd wecht o' stane Wad only overpow'r me; A shepherd, musin' there his lane, Were meeter bendin' owre me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FABLES: 1ST SER. 5. THE WILD BOAR AND THE RAM by JOHN GAY TWO SONNETS: 1 by DAVID P. BERENBERG THE GOLDEN ODES OF PRE-ISLAMIC ARABIA: TARAFA by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT PALAMON AND ARCITE, OR THE KNIGHT'S TALE: BOOK 1 by GEOFFREY CHAUCER |