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Hughie’s Invitation to a Friend in the City, pp.27-29.

[Horace in Homespun Contents]

Hic tibi copia 

Manabit ad plenum benigno 

Ruris honorum opulenta cornu.” 

NOO Nature’s wauken’d fra her trance, 

An’ sunbeams owre Lochleven glance, 

An’ soothlan’ winds that blaw fra France 

Bring soothlan’ weather, 

An’ lambs like fairy pownies prance 

Amang the heather. 


Noo doun the rig the sawer swings, 

An’ Jock ahint the harrow sings; 

Noo aff his plaid the shepherd flings 

An’ cracks to Rover, 

While a’ the open upland rings 

Wi’ whaup and plover. 


This mornin’ happy man is he 

That on the Ochils rangin’  free 

Can thro’ the blue lift send his ee 

Owre to the Lomon’, 

An’ a’ the pleasant prospect see 

An’ envy no man. 


That happy man – he’s no’ to seek! 

That happy man – ye hear him speak! 

He stands upon an Ochil peak 

An’ looks wi’ pity 

On you that dwall amang the reek 

Doun i’ the city. 


Nae doot it’s there the race is run 

For walth an’ honours, but the fun 

‘S to them that win, an’ tho’ ye’ve won 

Ye’re apt to tine them; 

The glory o’ the settin’ sun 

‘Ill far ootshine them! 


Come leave awhile the stoory toun, 

The mill-horse track, the endless roun’, 

The jaded sicht, the jarrin’ soun’, 

The haste an’ hurry, 

An’ look fra pastoral summits doun 

On Edinburgh. 


Here a’ your griefs to grund ‘ill fa’ 

Like winter’s blanket aff a wa’ 

When saft airs owre Damíat blaw 

An’ skies are clearin’, 

An’ yellow whin-blumes thro’ the snaw 

Are blithely peerin’. 


Or are ye shilpit, pale, and seeck? 

Come up the brae an’ bide a week, 

An’ drink the pure air at the peak 

That’s nearest heaven, 

An’ get a howp in ilka cheek 

O’ halesome livin’. 


For what’s the worth o’ warld’s gain 

Unless the joys o’ health remain? 

Yet there are folk that strive, an’ strain 

Their strength unduly – 

Wi’ puir return for a’ their pain, 

To speak it truly. 

Note. – Damíat is the loftiest height of the Ochil range. The Lomonds are a well-known range near Lochleven. 

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