LXII.
Reading edition
STREAMS THAT GLIDE IN ORIENT PLAINS.
Tune—“Morag.”
[We owe these verses to the too brief visit which the poet, in 1787, made to Gordon Castle: he was hurried away, much against his will, by his moody and obstinate friend William Nicol.]
I.
Streams that glide in orient plains, Never bound by winter’s chains; Glowing here on golden sands, There commix’d with foulest stains From tyranny’s empurpled bands; These, their richly gleaming waves, I leave to tyrants and their slaves; Give me the stream that sweetly laves The banks by Castle-Gordon.
II.
Spicy forests, ever gay, Shading from the burning ray, Hapless wretches sold to toil, Or the ruthless native’s way, Bent on slaughter, blood, and spoil: Woods that ever verdant wave, I leave the tyrant and the slave, Give me the groves that lofty brave The storms by Castle-Gordon.
III.
Wildly here without control, Nature reigns and rules the whole; In that sober pensive mood, Dearest to the feeling soul, She plants the forest, pours the flood; Life’s poor day I’ll musing rave, And find at night a sheltering cave, Where waters flow and wild woods wave, By bonnie Castle-Gordon.