1. Where the palaces rose grand, When Chou nobly ruled the land, Millets, some with drooping head, Some, just coming into blade, All around abundant grew. Slow the fields I wandered through, Moved in heart such sight to view. Friends who knew me understood. What induced my saddened mood. Those who did not know me said, There I search for something made. O thou azure Heaven, remote, Who this desolation wrought?

2. Where the palaces rose grand, When Chou nobly ruled the land, Millets, drooping, heavy here, There just coming into ear, All around abundant grew. Slow the fields I wandered through, Drunk with grief such sights to view. Friends who knew me understood What induced my saddened mood. Those who did not know me said, There I search for something made. O thou azure Heaven, remote, Who this desolation wrought?

3. Where the palaces rose grand, When Chou nobly ruled the land, Millets, heavy, drooping low, Some the bursting grain that show, All around abundant grew. Slow the fields I wandered through, Breath nigh stopt such scene to view. Friends who knew me understood What induced my saddened mood. Those who did not know me said, There I search for something made. O thou azure Heaven, remote, Who this desolation wrought? II. Scotice The Chun Tzu Yu Yi; narrative. The feelings of a wife on the prolonged absence of her husband on service, and her longing for his return.

4. The gudeman's awa, for to fecht wi' the stranger, An' when he'll be back, oh! my hert canna tell. The hens gae to reist, an' the beests to their manger, As hameward they wend frae their park on the hill. But hoo can I, thus left alane, Help thinking o' my man that's game?

5. The gudeman's awa, for to fecht wi' the stranger, An' lang will it be ere he see his fireside. The hens gae to reist, an' the beests to their manger, As the slantin' sunbeams throu the forest trees glide, Heaven kens the lanesome things I think. Heaven sen' my man his meat an' drink! III. Scotice The Chun Tzu Yang Yang; narrative. The husband's satisfaction, and the wife's joy, on his return.

6. The gudeman's come hame, an' his face weers a bloom, His organ o' reeds he hads in his left han'; An' his richt han' ca's me to come till his room:— It's siccan a joy; it's mair nor I can stan'.

7. The gudeman's come hame, an' he's pleesed I'll engage, His gran' fether screen he hads in his left han'; An' his richt han' ca's me to come till the stage:— It's siccan a joy; it's mair nor I can stan'.