Page:Lass o' Arranteinie.pdf/2

 THE LASS O' ARRANTEINIE. FORLORN amang the Highland hills, 'Midst nature's wildest grandeur, Dy rocky dens and woody glens, With weary steps I wander; The langsome way, the darksome day, The mountain mist sae rainy; Are nought to me, when gaun to thee, Sweet lass o' Arranteinie. Yon mossy rose buds down the howe, Just op'ning fresh and bonny, Blinks sweetly 'neath the hazle-bough, An's scarcely seen by ony: Sae sweet, amidst her native hills, Obscurely blooms my Jeany, Mair fair and gay than rosy May, The flower o' Arranteinie. Now from the mountain's lofty brow, I view the distant odean; There Avarice guides the bounding prow, Ambition courts promotion. Let Fortune pour her golden store, Her laurel'd favours many; Gi'e me but this, my soul's first wish, The Lass o' Arranteinie.