Robert Allan

The Lovely Maid of Ormadale

WHEN sets the sun o’er Lomond’s height,
  To blaze upon the western wave;
When peace and love possess the grove,
  And echo sleeps within the cave;
Led by love’s soft endearing charms,
  I stray the pathless winding vale,
And hail the hour that gives to me
  The lovely maid of Ormadale.

Her eyes outshine the star of night,
  Her cheeks the morning’s rosy hue;
And pure as flower in summer shade,
  Low bending in the pearly dew:
Nor flower sae fair and lovely pure,
  Shall fate’s dark wintry winds assail;
As angel-smile she aye will be
  Dear to the bowers of Ormadale.

Let fortune soothe the heart of care,
  And wealth to all its votaries give;
Be mine the rosy smile of love,
  And in its blissful arms to live.
I would resign fair India’s wealth,
  And sweet Arabia’s spicy gale,
For balmy eve and Scotian bower,
  With thee, loved maid of Ormadale.