Роберт Таннахилл (Robert Tannahill)

Jessie the Flower o' Dumblane

THE sun has gane down o'er the lofty Benlomon',
⁠     An' left the red clouds to preside o'er the scene,
While lanely I stray, in the calm simmer gloamin',
⁠     To muse on sweet Jessie the Flower o' Dumblane.
How sweet is the briar, wi' its fast saulding blossom,
     ⁠An' sweet is the birk, wi' its mantle o' green;
Yet sweeter and fairer, and dear to this bosom,
     ⁠Is lovely young Jessie, the Flower o' Dumblane.
               ⁠Is lovely, &c.

She's modest as ony, and blythe as she's bonny,
⁠     For guileless simplicity marks her its ain:
An' far be the villain, divested of feeling,
⁠     Wha'd blight in its bloom the sweet Flower o' Dumblane.

Sing on, thou sweet mavis, thy hymn to the e'ening,
     ⁠Thou'rt dear to the echoes o' Calderwood glen;
Sae dear to this bosom, sae artless and winning,
⁠     Is charming young Jessie, the Flower o' Dumblane.
               ⁠Is lovely, &c.

How lost were my days till I met wi' my Jessie,
⁠     The sports o' the city seem'd foolish and vain,
I ne'er saw a nymph I could ca' my dear lassie,
     ⁠Till charm'd wi' young Jessie, the Flower o' Dumblane.

Tho' mine were the station of loftieft grandeur,
     ⁠Amidst its profusion I'd languish in vain,
An' reckon as naething the height o' its splendour,
     ⁠If wanting sweet Jessie, the Flower o' Dumblane.
⁠               If wanting, &c. 

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