To be a Prodigal's favourite,-then, worse truth, A Miser's pensioner,-behold our lot!
Shalt show us how divine a thing A woman may be made.
A Briton even in love should be A subject, not a slave!
Oh for a single hour of that Dundee Who on that day the word of onset gave!
Stern Winter loves a dirge-like sound.
She gave me eyes, she gave me ears; And humble cares, and delicate fears; A heart, the fountain of sweet tears; And love and thought and joy.