by tweed erects his aged head,

and sees, with self-approving nd,

each creature on his bounty fed.

while niac winter rages o'er

the hills whence ssic yarrow flows,

rousing the turbid torrent's roar,

or sweeping, wild, a waste of snows.

so long, sweet poet of the year!

shall bloothat wreath thou well hast won;

while scotia, with exulting tear,

proi that thoon was her son.