English

Behold yon hills. The one is fresh and fair;
The other rudely great. New-springing green
Mantles the one; and on its top the star
Of love, in all its tenderest light, is seen.
Island of joys! how sweet thy gentle rays
Issue from heaven's blue depths in evening's prime!
But round yon bolder height no softness plays,
Nor flower nor bud adorns its front sublime.
Rude, but in majesty, it mounts in air,
And on its summit Jove in glory burns;
'Mid all the stars that pour their radiant urns,

Dire eighty-eight, ance mair took flight,
To ruin memorable,
O' Europe's Kings, Popes, Princes, Queens,
An' mankind toil and trouble:
First James third, by gun or sword,
Was slain at Milton Field, man;
An' English Dick was serv'd that trick,
By Richmond's sword an' shield, man.

A century more comes in my score,
When Scotland's royal Queen, man,
Fled in distress to cousin Bess,

The gallant ship is out at sea,
Proudly o'er the water going;
Along her sides the billows flee,
Back in her wake, a river, flowing:
She dips her stem to meet the wave,
And high the tossed foam curls before it;
As if she felt the cheers we gave,
She takes her flight,
Where the sea looks bright,
And the sun in sparkles flashes o'er it.

Gallantly on she cuts her way,
And now in distance far is fleeting;
There are some on board whose hearts are gay,
And some whose hearts are wildly beating:

Since, I set out there has been cold rain, and few of the days have been spent entirely in travel. Moreover, the autumn rains fall in torrents, and the mountain streams overflow. I cross the boundless waters against the current and travel along dangerous paths. On the cliffside roads I eat my meals under the stars; I spend my nights on lotus beds by the water. As a traveler, I am distressed and toil-worn. The rivers and roads are broad and immense. Thus, by mealtime today, I had only reached Dalei. I have traveled on this road for a thousand li ; my journey has taken more than ten days.

I found thee where the woods were wild,
And weeds and thorns had round thee grown;
No hunter's foot, no wandering child,
Had met thee, thou wert all so lone.

Above, the cypress and the yew
Had wreathed around their funeral shade,
And the still wind, that faintly blew,
A sound, like that of sorrow, made.

And ever, as it o'er thee swept,
Low-breathing melodies were heard,
As if a mourner sobbed and wept,
Or nightly sang the widowed bird.

And now, as fitfully the blast

In honour when your father seated high,
Ever he little rest acquir'd thereby;
Right noble Lord: but you his honour'd son,
O to your self morest then he hath won :
Moe rest and quiet to your minde attained,
Ever then he in all his life had gained.

With honour is attendant care and paine,
Ever almost, who one, doth other gaine:
Such happines is yours, to honour prest;
That notwithstanding, you do min moe rest .
O win moe rest still, till the heavens you gaine,
Never desist for rest to take some paine.

Where are now the flowers that once detained me,
Like a loiterer on my early way?
Where the fragrant wreaths that softly chained me,
When young life was like an infant's play?

Were they but the fancied dreams, that hover
Round the couch where tender hearts repose?
Only pictured veils, that brightly cover
With their skyey tints a world of woes?

They are gone, — but memory loves to cherish
All their sweetness in her deepest core.
Ah! the recollection cannot perish,
Though the eye may never meet them more.

Where lives the soul of song?
Dwells it amid the city's festive halls?
Where crowd the eager throng,
Or where the wanderer's silent footstep falls?

Loves it the gay saloon,
Where wine and dances steal away the night,
And bright as summer noon
Burns round the pictured walls a blaze of light?

Seeks it the public square,
When victory hails the people's choson son,
And loud applauses there
From lip to lip in emulous greetings run?

Dwells it amid the host,

New is your Cast , not new the vertues tho,
In honour Lofty you exalteth so:
Choyce graces you did long agoe affect,
High honours they did unto you select;
On you, which as a Cast , most sodainly,
Lighted upon your soule heroickly
Admiring it, sith without your desire,
So nimbly unto honour you aspire.

Thus though no garnester but as vertue betted,
Verily you a lofty new cast fitted,
Faire game you needs must have, who so faire gaine,
Thus so unlook't for, by one cast retaine,
Oh he that vertue hath to be his dice,

Placed within your breast I doe espie,
High ensignes of most true Nobility,
In you I see that vertues faire increase,
Lively acquires unto your soule great Peace;
In you nobilliti's most noble Rays,
Place still most lively your immortall praise.

So then most happily you posten on,
That you may be a most selected stone,
And vertue happily hath posten you,
Now to receive reward that is but due
Howerly to your deserts, which vertuously,
On high affecting, ought to be on high.
Posten you have then happily in deed,