Cowdon-knows, pp.155-156.

[Tea-Table Miscellany Contents]

O ubi campi. Virg. 


WHen summer comes, the swains on Tweed 

Sing their successful loves, 

Around the ews and lambkins feed, 

And musick fills the groves. 


But my lov’d song is then the broom 

So fair on Cowdon-knows; 

For sure so sweet, so soft a bloom 

Elsewhere there never grows. 


There Colin tun’d his oaten reed, 

And won my yielding heart; 

No shepherd e’re that dwelt on Tweed 

Could play with half such art. 


He sung of Tay, of Forth, and Clyde

The hills and dales all round, 

Of Leader-haughs and Leader-side

Oh! how I bless’d the sound. 


Yet more delightful is the broom, 

So fair on Cowdon-knows; 

For sure so fresh, so bright a bloom 

Elsewhere there never grows. 


Not Tiviot braes so green and gay 

May with this broom compare, 

Not Yarrow banks in flowry May

Nor the bush aboon Traquair


More pleasing far are Cowdon-knows

My peaceful happy home, 

Where I was wont to milk my ews 

At even among the broom. 


Ye powers that haunt the woods and plains 

Where Tweed with Tiviot flows, 

Convey me to the best of swains, 

And my lov’d Cowdon-knows

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