Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 1.djvu/381

Rh Thus having said, the kilted Goddess kist

Her son, and vanished in a Scottish mist.

Then prosper, ! pertest of the train

Whom Scotland pampers with her fiery grain!

Whatever blessing waits a genuine Scot,

In double portion swells thy glorious lot;

For thee Edina culls her evening sweets,

And showers their odours on thy candid sheets,

Whose Hue and Fragrance to thy work adhere—

This scents its pages, and that gilds its rear.

Lo! blushing Itch, coy nymph, enamoured grown,

Forsakes the rest, and cleaves to thee alone,