Where, braving angry winter’s storms,The lofty Ochils rise,Far in their shade my Peggy’s charmsFirst blest my wondering eyes;As one who by some savage streamA lonely gem surveys,Astonish’d, doubly marks it beamWith art’s most polish’d blaze.
Blest be the wild, sequester’d shade,And blest the day and hour,Where Peggy’s charms I first survey’d,When first I felt their pow’r!The tyrant Death, with grim control,May seize my fleeting breath;But tearing Peggy from my soulMust be a stronger death.