| |
| WHEN sets the sun o’er Lomond’s height, | |
| To blaze upon the western wave; | |
| When peace and love possess the grove, | |
| And echo sleeps within the cave; | |
| Led by love’s soft endearing charms, | 5 |
| I stray the pathless winding vale, | |
| And hail the hour that gives to me | |
| The lovely maid of Ormadale. | |
| |
| Her eyes outshine the star of night, | |
| Her cheeks the morning’s rosy hue; | 10 |
| And pure as flower in summer shade, | |
| Low bending in the pearly dew: | |
| Nor flower sae fair and lovely pure, | |
| Shall fate’s dark wintry winds assail; | |
| As angel-smile she aye will be | 15 |
| Dear to the bowers of Ormadale. | |
| |
| Let fortune soothe the heart of care, | |
| And wealth to all its votaries give; | |
| Be mine the rosy smile of love, | |
| And in its blissful arms to live. | 20 |
| I would resign fair India’s wealth, | |
| And sweet Arabia’s spicy gale, | |
| For balmy eve and Scotian bower, | |
| With thee, loved maid of Ormadale. | |
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