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‘Midst cannons‘ roar and lightning’s blaze,
I thought on peaceful Calder Braes.
With laurels crown’d with wealth array’d,
Again I sought my native shade.
In hopes my long lost love to meet,
To lay my laurels at her feet:
Alas! I never saw her more;
My sanguine dreams of bliss are o’er,
My only pleasure's now to gaze
On her lov’d grave on Calder Braes.
THE PRIMROSE BANK
ON a primrose bank, by a murmuring stream,
Pastora was singing and I was her theme;
Whilst charm’d with her beauty, behind a green bush.
I listen’d to hear her sweet tale with a blush.
Of all the young shepherds that pipe on the reed,
’Tis Damon alone I can fancy indeed;
I tell him I value him not of a thrush,
Yet surely I love him, or why do I blush?
