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castle gordon

streas that glide orient ps,

never bound by ter&039;s chas;

glog here on golden sands,

there iix&039;d with foulest stas

fro tyranny&039;s epurpled hands;

these, their richly gleag waves,

i leave to tyrants and their sves;

give the strea that sweetly ves

the banks by castle gordon

spicy forests, ever gray,

shadg fro the burng ray

hapless wretches ld to toil;

or the ruthless native&039;s way,

bent on sughter, blood, and spoil:

woods that ever verdant wave,

i leave the tyrant and the sve;

give the groves that lofty brave

the stors by castle gordon

wildly here, without ntrol,

nature reigns and rules the whole;

that ber pensive ood,

dearest to the feelg ul,

she pnts the forest, pours the flood:

life&039;s poor day i&039;ll g rave

and fd at night a shelterg cave,

where waters flow and wild woods wave,

by bonie castle gordon