I dream'd I lay where flowers were springing gaily in the sunny beam;
List'ning to the wild birds singing, by a falling crystal stream:
Straight the sky grew black and daring; thro' the woods the whirlwinds rave;
Tress with aged arms were warring, o'er the swelling drumlie wave.
Such was my life's deceitful morning, such the pleasures I enjoyed:
But lang or noon, loud tempests storming a' my flowery bliss destroy'd.
Tho' fickle fortune has deceiv'd me - she promis'd fair, and perform'd but ill,
Of mony a joy and hope bereav'd me - I bear a heart shall support me still.