II.
The trumpets sound, the banners fly,
The glittering spears are ranked ready;
The shouts o’ war are heard afar,
The battle closes thick and bloody;
It’s not the roar o’ sea or shore
Wad make me langer wish to tarry;
Nor shouts o’ war that’s heard afar—
It’s leaving thee, my bonnie Mary.
LXXIII.
THE LAZY MIST.
Tune—“The lazy mist.”
[All that Burns says about the authorship of The Lazy Mist, is, “This song is mine.” The air, which is by Oswald, together with the words, is in the Musical Museum.]
I.
The lazy mist hangs from the brow of the hill,
Concealing the course of the dark winding rill;
How languid the scenes, late so sprightly, appear!
As Autumn to Winter resigns the pale year.
The forests are leafless, the meadows are brown,
And all the gay foppery of summer is flown:
Apart let me wander, apart let me muse,
How quick Time is flying, how keen Fate pursues!
II.