Then on I rambled to the west,
Below the zunny hangèn's breast,
Where, down athirt the little stream,
The brudge's beam did lie at rest:
But all the birds, wi' lively glee,
Did chirp an' hop vrom tree to tree,
As if it wer vrom pride, to zee
Goo by the maïd o' Newton.
By fancy led, at evenèn's glow,
I woonce did goo, a-rovèn slow,