William Drummond (1)

Sweet bird, that sing'st away the early hours,
Of winter's past or coming void of care,
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Sweet bird, that sing'st away the early hours,
Of winter's past or coming void of care,
Well pleased with delights which present are,
Fair seasons, budding sprays, sweet-smelling flowers.

God never had a church but there, men say,
The devil a chapel hath raised by some wiles,
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God never had a church but there, men say,
The devil a chapel hath raised by some wiles,
I doubted of this saw, till on a day
I westward spied great Edinburgh's Saint Giles.

He lives who dies to win a lasting name.

He lives who dies to win a lasting name.

Thrice happy he, who by some shady grove,
Far from the clamorous world; doth live his own;
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Thrice happy he, who by some shady grove,
Far from the clamorous world; doth live his own;
Though solitary, who is not alone,
But doth converse with that eternal love.

Let Zephyr only breathe
And with her tresses play.

Let Zephyr only breathe
And with her tresses play.