The Book of Scottish Song/The Braes of Ballahun

The Braes of Ballahun.

[Thomas Cunningham. Ballahun is a picturesque glen near Blackwood House, on the river Nith.]

Now smiling summer's balmy breeze,
Soft whispering, fans the leafy trees:
The linnet greets the rosy morn,
Sweet in yon fragrant flowery thorn;
The bee hums round the woodbine bower,
Collecting sweets from every flower;
And pure the crystal streamlets run
Amang the braes of Ballahun.

O blissful days, for ever fled,
When wand'ring wild as Fancy led,
I ranged the bushy bosom'd glen,
The scroggie shaw, the rugged linn,
And mark'd each blooming hawthorn bush,
Where nestling sat the speckled thrush;
Or careless roaming, wandered on,
Amang the braes of Ballahun.

Why starts the tear, why bursts the sigh,
When hills and dales rebound with joy?
The flowery glen, and lilied lea
In vain display their charms to me.
I joyless roam the heathy waste,
To soothe this sad, this troubled breast;
And seek the haunts of men to shun
Amang the braes of Ballahun.

The virgin blush of lovely youth,
The angel smile of artless truth,
This breast illum'd with heavenly joy,
Which lyart time can ne'er destroy:
Julia dear!—the parting look,
The sad farewell we sorrowing took,
Still haunt me as I stray alone
Amang the braes of Ballahun.

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