William Glen
William Glen Poems
Blink over the burn, sweet Betty,
Blink over the burn to me;
Blink over the burn, sweet Betty,
...
My tortured bosom long shall feel
The pangs o' this last sad fareweel;
Far, far to foreign lands I stray,
...
How eerily, how drearily, how wearily to pine,
When my love 's in a foreign land, far frae thae arms o' mine;
...
Her eyes were red with weeping,
Her lover was no more,
Beneath the billows sleeping,
Near Ireland's rocky shore;
...
The sun hadna peep'd frae behint the dark billow,
The slow sinking moon half illumined the scene;
As I lifted my head frae my care-haunted pillow,
...
Sing a' ye bards, wi' loud acclaim,
High glory gie to gallant Graham,
Heap laurels on our marshal's fame
...
Raise high the battle-song
To the heroes of our land;
Strike the bold notes loud and long
To Great Britain's warlike band.
...
Oh! stopna, bonnie bird, that strain,
Frae hopeless love itsel' it flows;
Sweet bird, oh! warble it again,
...
A wee bird cam to our ha' door,
He warbled sweet an' clearly,
An' aye the owercome o' his sang
...
William Glen Biography
William Glen (1789–1826), Scottish poet, born in Glasgow, was for some years in the West Indies. He died in poverty. He wrote several poems, but the only one which has survived is his Jacobite ballad, Wae's me for Prince Charlie.)
The Best Poem Of William Glen
Blink Over The Burn, Sweet Betty
Blink over the burn, sweet Betty,
Blink over the burn to me;
Blink over the burn, sweet Betty,
An' I 'll gang alang wi' thee;
Though father and mither forbade it,
Forbidden I wadna be;
Blink over the burn, sweet Betty,
An' I 'll gang alang wi' thee.
The cheek o' my love 's like the rose-bud,
Blushing red wi' the mornin' dew,
Her hair 's o' the loveliest auburn,
Her ee 's o' the bonniest blue;
Her lips are like threads o' the scarlet,
Disclosing a pearly row;
Her high-swelling, love-heaving bosom
Is white as the mountain snow.
But it isna her beauty that hauds me,
A glitterin' chain winna lang bind;
'Tis her heavenly seraph-like sweetness,
An' the graces adornin' her mind;
She 's dear to my soul as the sunbeam
Is dear to the summer's morn,
An' she says, though her father forbade it,
She 'll ne'er break the vows she has sworn.
Her father's a canker'd auld carle,
He swears he will ne'er gie consent;
Such carles should never get daughters,
Unless they can mak them content;
But she says, though her father forbade it,
Forbidden she winna be;
Blink over the burn, sweet Betty,
An' I 'll gang alang wi' thee.
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