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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.

Poem by Robert Burns
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