226 
THE LOVER’S OFFERING, 
Tlieir sweet scented woodlands, that skirt the proud 
palace, 
What are they ? The haunt o’ the tyrant and 
slave I 
The slave’s spicy forests, and gold-bubbling foun¬ 
tains, 
The brave Caledonian views wi’ disdain; 
He wanders as free as the winds of his mountains, 
Save love’s willing fetters, the chains o’ his Jean. 
BURNS. 
FIELD FLOWERS. 
Ye field flowers! the gardens eclipse you, ’tis true, 
Yet wildlings of nature, I doat upon you, 
For ye waft me to summers of old, 
When the earth teemed around me with fairy 
delights, 
And when daisies and buttercups gladdened my sight, 
Like treasures of silver and gold. 
I love you for lulling me back into dreams 
Of the blue Highland mountains and echoing 
streams, 
And of broken blades breathing their balm; 
While the deer was seen glancing in sunshine 
remote, 
And the deep mellow crush of the wood-pigeon’s note 
Made music that sweetened the calm. 
