AT REST, WHERE HEATHER BLOOMS. 



The Hills o' Gallawa' 



And when auld Scotland's heathy hills, 



Her rural nymphs and joyous swains, 

 Her flowery wilds and wimpling rills 



Awake nae mair my canty strains; 

 Whare friendship dwells and freedom reigns 



Whare heather blooms and muircocks craw, 

 Oh ! dig my grave and hide my banes 



Amang the hills o' Gallawa. 



Thomas Cunningham. 



Hame 



If I could see the gowan spread 



Its wee flowers on the lea, 

 An' the heather blume on the mountain bare, 



And the ivy climb the tree: 



Then might I think that this was hame, 



And gladly live and dee, 

 Nor feel this want at my heart's core, 



My native land, for thee. 



John Dougal. 



Nor absence, time, nor balmy rest, 



Nor grief, nor tears, can ease me; 

 I feel the time approaching fast 



When a clay-cold bed will please me. 

 Then rest my head upon yon hill, 



Where blows the blooming heather, 

 There first at Flora's feet I fell ! 



There oft we sat together. Hogg. 



208 



