Amang thy cosy, mossy chinks,
The fern now shows its gentle form
And through thy caves the ousel darts,
To build his nest in early morn.
The scented birk, and glossy beech,
Hang o’er thee for thy simmer veil;
And gowany haughs[42] aroond thee bloom,
Where shepherds tauld love’s tender tale.
Sweet Esk, glide o’er thy rocky path,
And echo through thy classic glen;