In the pulse of my heart I have nourish'd a care,
That forbids me thy sweet inspiration to share;
The noon of my youth slow departing I see,
Eut its years as they pass bring no tidings of thee.
O Cherub Content! at thy moss-cover'd shrine,
I would offer my vows, if Matilda were mine;
Could I call her my own whom enraptur'd I see,
I would breathe not a vow but to friendship and thee.
Where Gadie rins.
[From "Poems and Songs, by John Imlah," London, 1841, 12mo.—Gadie is a rivulet, and Bennachie a mountain, in Aberdeenshire.]
O! gin I were where Gadie rins,
Where Gadie rins—where Gadie rins,
O gin I were where Gadie rins,
By the foot o' Bennachie!
I've roam'd by Tweed—I've roam'd by Tay,
By border Nith and highland Spey,
But dearer far to me than they,
The braes o' Bennachie.
When blade and blossoms sprout in spring,
And bid the burdies wag the wing,
They blithely bob, and soar, and sing,
By the foot o' Bennachie.
When simmer cleeds the varied scene,
Wi' licht o' gowd and leaves o' green,
I fain wad be where aft I've been,
At the foot o' Bennachie.
When autumn's yellow sheaf is shorn,
And barn-yards stored wi' stooks o' corn,
'Tis blythe to toom the clyack horn,
At the foot o' Bennachie!
When winter winds blaw sharp and shrill,
O'er icy burn and sheeted hill,
The ingle neuk is gleesome still,
At the foot of Bennachie.
Though few to welcome me remain,
Though a' I loved be dead and gane,
I'll back, though I should live alane,
To the foot of Bennachie.
O! gin I wers where Gadie rins,
Where Gadie rins — where Gadie rins,
O! gin I were where Gadie rins,
By the foot o' Bennachie!
Thou’rt sair alter’d.
[John Imlah.]
Thou'rt sair alter'd now, May,
Thou'rt sair alter'd now,
The rose is wither'd frae thy cheek,
The wrinkle's on thy brow;
And grey hath grown the locks o' jet,
Sae shining wont to be,
Thou alter'd sair,—but, May, thou'rt yet
The May o' yore to me.
Thy voice is faint and low. May,
That aft in former time
Hath woke the wild bird's envious chant,
The echo's amorous chime;
Thy e'e hath lost its early light,
My star in ither years,
That aye hath beam'd sae kindly bright,
To me through smiles and tears.
For a' the signs that show, May,
The gloamin' o' our day,
I lo'ed thee young—I lo'e thee yet,
My ain auld wifie, May;
Nae dearer hope ha'e I than this,
Beyond the day we die,
Thy charms shall bloom again to bless
My halidome on hie.
Fare thee weel.
[John Imlah.]
Fare thee weel, my bonnie lass,
Fare thee weel, my ain lassie!
Monie a day maun come and pass,
Ere we shall meet again, Lassie!
Monie a chance and monie a change,
Ere that lang day we'll see, lassie!
But where'er my feet may range,
My heart shall be with thee, lassie!
