198. Song—Braving Angry Winer's Storms
WHERE, braving angry winter’s storms,
The lofty Ochils rise,
Far in their shade my Peggy’s charms
First blest my wondering eyes;
As one who by some savage stream
A lonely gem surveys,
Astonish’d, doubly marks it beam
With 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 soul
Must be a stronger death.
by Robert Burns
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