Verses On The Destruction Of The Woods N（2 / 2）

“when, glinting thro' the trees, appear'd

the wee white cot aboon the mill,

and peacefu' rose its ingle reek,

that, slowly curling, clamb the hill.

but now the cot is bare and cauld,

its leafy bield for ever gane,

and scarce a stinted birk is left

to shiver in the blast its lane.”

“alas!” h i, “what ruefu' chance

has twin'd ye o' your stately trees?

has laid your rocky bosom bare—

has stripped the cleeding o' your braes?

was it the bitter eastern blast,

that scatters blight in early spring?

or was't the wil'fire scorch'd their boughs,

or canker-worm wi' secret sting?”

“nae eastlin blast,” the sprite replied;

“it blaws na here sae fierce and fell,

and on my dry and halesome banks

nae canker-worms get leave to dwell:

man! cruel man!” the genius sighed—

as through the cliffs he sank him down—

“the worm that gnaw'd my bonie trees,

that reptile wears a ducal crown.”