WHILE on the meadowy banks of Spey ,
Slow steals along the rural muse,
And sees the bordering flowers display
Their native sweets and vernal hues:
And while she casts her pensive view
Where bold Craigillachy aspires,
Now deck'd with heath-bells fresh with dew,
Where blaz'd of old the warning fires:
With glowing heart and trembling hand
She strives to wake the plausive lay;
And wide o'er all her native land
The voice of grateful truth convey.
And while she consecrates the strain,
To worth beyond her humble praise,
The genius of thy native plain
Will smile indulgent on her lays.
Oh, form'd to prove each feeling dear
That heightens joy and sweetens care,--
The tender Parent, Friend sincere,
The Consort bless'd beyond compare:
The Patriot Chief, who dwells belov'd
Among the race his fathers sway'd;
Who, long his country's friend approv'd,
Retires in peace to bless the shade.
Who when the dreadful blast of war
With horror fill'd the regions round,
His willing people call'd from far,
With wakening pipe of martial sound:
The valiant clan, on every side,
With sudden, warlike ardour burns;
And views those long-lov'd homes with pride,
Whose loss no exil'd native mourns.
From every mountain, strath, and glen,
The rustic warriors crowded round;
The Chief who rules the hearts of men
In safety dwells, with honour crown'd.
'For thee (they cried) dear native earth,
'We gladly dare the battle's roar;
'Our kindred ties, our sacred hearth,
'Returning peace will soon restore.
'No ruthless, mercenary swains
'Shall ever quench our social fires;
'Our labour on our narrow plains
'Shall feed our babes and hoary sires.
'And when each tender pledge we leave,
'Our parent Chief, with guardian care,
'Shall soothe their woes, their wants relieve,
And save the mourners from despair.'
Beneath his mild paternal sway,
The power of cultivation smiles,
And swelling, proud, impetuous Spey
Rejoices, while the peasant toils:
To see his banks on every side
With crowding population teem,
And cultur'd fields their yellow pride
Reflecting in his copious stream.
Well pleas'd he wanders near the dome
Where every milder virtue dwells;
Where all the gentler graces bloom,
And Painting speaks and Music swells.
When frosts untimely check'd the spring,
And blasting mildews hover'd o'er,
And cheerful Labour ceas'd to sing,
And Plenty deck'd the plains no more:
To Grant she gave her teeming horn,
Well pleas'd he pour'd the bounteous store,
And Want no longer wept forlorn,
And fruitless Labour mourn'd no more.
To Woe, while Pity yields relief,
While Truth adorns the plausive lay,
Our vows shall bless the Patriarch Chief
Who rules the grateful banks of Spey .