Classic Poem

Dear mountains, lured by sunny ray,
I daunder'd out the other day
As far as Blackford Hill,
An' keekit ower wi' anxious ee,
To see gin ye ance mair were free
O' Winter's icy chill;
But thickly wedged in ilka howe
I saw the glist'ning snaw,
An' a' the ringlets o' your pow
Were pouther'd crisp and braw.
Chill'd by the sicht, I turn'd me roun',
And sought my couthie hame,
Resolved to keep the cozie toun
Till Spring flowers bursting came.

Aye wae frae kind auld freens to part,
I saunter'd hame wi' heavy heart,
An' mused sae deep an' lang,
That visions o' my early days,
Amang dear Pentland's heathy braes,
Cam ower me crowdin' thrang.
I mindit o' ae sunny day,
To mem'ry ever dear,
When twa toun bairns took truant's play,
An' to the hills drew near;
An' as through bonny Morningside
Their wee feet patter'd on,
Each graipt his pouch wi' manly pride,
An' bought a bawbee scone.

Then on we strode out ower the plain,
Resolved the highest hill to gain
The straight and shortest way;
An' when we cam the mountains nigh,
They didna look sae vera high,
So straught we took the brae.
But as we clamb frae knowe to knowe,
A new hill aye up glintit,
An' aye when we had scaled its brow,
Another rose ahint it,
An' aye we took a wee bit rest,
An' aye we clamb the higher,
Until we reached Carnethy's crest,
Wi' cheeks like lowin' fire.

In silent rapture low we knelt;
Wi' heavenly beauty awed, we felt
That hill was holy ground;
We doff'd our caps, our sunny hair
Waved wildly in the mountain air,
We gazed in wonder round,
For hill and valley, lake and sea,
Lay stretch'd far out before us,
An' in the lift, so vast an' hie,
Bright glory floated o'er us.
That heavenly scene, that hallow'd hour
Shall be forgotten never,
That bound my soul wi' magic power
To Pentland Hills for ever.

Syne doun we lay on that hill-tap,
We hadna power to move ae stap
Frae sic a scene away.
High in the lift the lav'rock sang,
While we lay stretch'd the bent alang,
An' listen'd till his lay.
And there, on that lone mountain top,
When but a duddy callant,
That lark inspired a kindred hope,
I yet might weave a ballant.
And as if sent to stay the thought,
A milk-white bleating lamb
Peer'd in my face, as gin it sought
To meet its wander'd dam.

Sae meek it lookit in my face,
Syne ran awa wi' friskin' pace,
Down by a trottin' burn:
Twa hungry callants left alane,
What could we do but follow fain,
We kenn'd na how to turn;
At length we reach'd a shepherd's cot,
Low rising on the brae,
An' frae the lammie's mistress got
A feast o' cakes and whey.
She guess'd that we were truant louns,
And sair she flate an' bann'd,
An' tauld us that we rogues frae touns
Corrupted a' the land.

But while the wifie flate an' gloom'd,
The tither cake, wi' butter thoom'd,
She forced us still to eat,
Till our wee kites were straughtet fou,
When, wi' our hearties at our mou',
We felt maist like to greet.
Then, stalkin' furth, the sturdy dame
Show'd us our hameward gait,
And tauld us baith to hasten hame,
Or we would be ower late.
Her pet lamb patter'd by her side,
She saw us ower the brae —
" There, rin ye roggies hame, " she cried,
" Your absence causes wae. "

Kind, generous dame; in manhood's day,
When struggling hard to gain the way
To knowledge and to truth,
'Mid mazes lost, o'er oceans driven,
One light resplendent shone from heaven,
That vision of my youth,
And led me on o'er stormy sea,
On wild and trackless road,
Until I found my way to Thee,
Great Nature's only God.
Led by the Lamb, each trusting soul
Shall find a home at last;
And, freed from Error's dark control,
Shall smile at dangers past.