The Traveller's Return (1)/The Traveller's Return

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THE TRAVELLER'S RETURN.

Tune-Auld Lang Syne

When silent Time, wi’ lightly foot.
Had trod on thirty years,
My native land I sought again,
Wi’ mony hopes and fears.
Wha kens, thought I, if friends I left
Will aye continue mine;
Or gin I e’er again shall meet
The joys I left langsyne.

As I drew near my ancient pile,
My heart beat a’ the way;
Ilk place I pass’d seem’d yet to speak
Of some dear former day;
Those days that follow’d me afar.
Those happy days of mine;
Which made me think the joys at hand
Were naething to lang syne.

My ivied tow’rs now met my een,
Where minstrels us’d to blaw,
Nae friend stept put wi’ open arm's—
Nae weel kend face I saw-—
Till Donald totter’d to the door,
Whom I left in his prime;
And grat to see the lad come hame
He bore about lang syne.

I ran to ilka weel kend place,
In hopes to find friends there;
I saw where mony a ane had set,
I hung on mony a chair;
Till soft remembrance threw a veil
Across these een o’ mine;
I shut the door, and sobb'd aloud,
To think on auld langsyne.

A new sprung race o’ motly kind
Would now their welcome pay,
Wha shudder’d at my gothic wa’s,
And wish’d my groves av/ay;
‘Cut down these gloomy trees,’ they cried
‘Lay low yon mournful pine,’—
Ah! no; your fathers’ names are there,
Memorials o’ lang sync.

To win me frae these waefu’ thoughts,
They took me to the town;
Where soon, in ilka weel kend face,
I miss’d the youthfu’ bloom.
At balls they pointed to a nymph,
Whom alll declar’d divine;
But cure her mother’s blushing face
Was fairer far lang syne.

In vain I sought in music’s sound.
To find that magic art.
Which oft in Scotland’s ancient lays
Has thrill’d thro’ a’ my heart.
The sang had mony an artfu’ turn;
My ear confess’d ’twas fine—
But miss’d the simple melody
I listen’d to lang syne.

Ye sons to comrades o’ my youth.
Forgive an auld man’s spleen,
Wha, midst your gayest scenes, still mourns
The days he ance has seen.
When time is past, and seasons fled.
Your hearts may feel like mine,
And aye the sang will maist delight
That minds you o’ lang syne.