WHen Phœbus bright, the azure skies
With golden rays enlightneth,
He makes all nature’s beauties rise,
Herbs, trees and flowers he quickneth:
Amongst all those he makes his choice,
And with delight goes thorow,
With radient beams and silver streams,
Are Leader Haughs and Yarrow.
When Aries the day and night
In equal length divideth,
Auld frosty Saturn takes his flight,
Nae langer he abideth:
Then Flora queen, with mantle green,
Casts aff her former sorrow,
And vows to dwell with Ceres sell,
In Leader Haughs and Yarrow.
Pan playing on his aiten reed,
And shepherds him attending,
Do here resort their flocks to feed,
The hills and haughs commending;
With cur and kent upon the bent,
Sing to the sun, good morrow,
And swear nae fields mair pleasures yield,
Than Leader Haughs and Yarrow.
An house their stands on Leader side,
Surmounting my descriving,
With rooms sae rare, and windows fair,
Like Dedalus’ contriving:
Men passing by, do aften cry,
In sooth it hath nae marrow;
It stands as sweet on Leader side,
As Newark does on Yarrow.
A mile below wha lifts to ride,
They’ll hear the mavis singing;
Into St. Leonard’s banks she’ll bide,
Sweet birks her head o’er hinging:
The lintwhite loud, and progne proud,
With tuneful throats and narrow,
Into St. Leonard’s banks they sing,
As sweetly as in Yarrow.
The lapwing lilteth o’er the lee,
With nimble wing she sporteth,
But vows she’ll flee far frae the tree
Where Philomel resorteth:
By break of day, the lark can say,
I’ll bid you a good morrow,
I’ll streek my wing, and mounting sing,
O’er Leader Haughs and Yarrow.
Park, Wantan-waws, and Wooden-cleugh,
The east and western Mainses,
The wood of Lauder’s fair enough,
The corns are good in Blainshes,
Where aits are fine, and said be kind,
That if ye search all thorow
Mearns, Buchan, Mar, nane better are
Than Leader Haughs and Yarrow.
In Burn Mill-bog and Whitslade shaws,
The fearful hare she haunteth,
Brig-haugh and Braidwoodsheil she knaws,
And Chapel-wood frequenteth:
Yet when she irks, to Kaidsly birks
She rins, and sighs for sorrow,
That she shou’d leave sweet Leader Haughs,
And cannot win to Yarrow.
What sweeter musick wad ye hear,
Than hounds and beigles crying?
The started hare rins hard with fear,
Upon her speed relying.
But yet her strength, it fails at length,
Nae beildmg can she borrow
In Sorrel’s field, Cleckman or Hag’s,
And sighs to be in Yarrow.
For Rockwood, Ringwood, Spoty, Shag,
With sight and scent pursue her,
Till ah! her pith begins to flag,
Nae cunning can rescue her.
O’er dub and dyke, o’er seugh and syke.
She’ll rin the fields all thorow,
‘Till fail’d she fa’s in Leader Haughs,
And bids farewell to Yarrow.
Sing Erslington and Cowdenknows,
Where Homes had anes commanding;
And Drygrange with thy milk white ews,
‘Twixt Tweed and Leader standing:
The bird that flees throw Reedpath trees,
And Gledswood banks ilk morrow,
May chant and sing, sweet Leader Haughs,
And bonny howms of Yarrow.
But minstrel Burn cannot asswage
His grief, while life endureth,
To see the changes of this age,
That fleeting time procureth;
For mony a place stands in hard case,
Where blyth fowk kend nae sorrow,
With Homes that dwelt on Leader side,
And Scots that dwelt on Yarrow.