Читать книгу Revised Edition of Poems - Bill o'th' Hoylus End - Страница 21

O welcome, young princess, thou sweetest of dowters,

   An’ furst bloomin’ issue o’ King Sixty-four,

Wi’ thi brah deck’d wi’ gems o’ the purest o’ waters,

   Tha tells us thi sire, stern winter, is ower.

We hail thi approach wi’ palm-spangled banners;

   The plant an’ the saplin’ await thi command;

An’ Natur herseln, to show her good manners,

   Nah spreads her green mantle all ower the land.

Tha appears in t’ orchard, in t’ garden, an’ t’ grotto,

   Where sweet vegetation anon will adorn;

Tha smiles on the lord no more than the cottar,

   For thi meanest o’ subjects tha nivver did scorn.

O hasten ta labour! ye wise, O be goin’!

   These words they are borne on the wings o’ the wind;

That bids us be early i’ plewin’ an’ sowin’,

   Fer him at neglects, tha’ll leave him behind.