Ye Breezes That Spring

Ye breezes that spring in some land unknown,
Or sleep on your clouds of the eider down,
Come over the mountain and over the dale,
More sweet than Arabia's spicy gale !
Come over the heath-flower's purple bloom,
And gather the birk's and the thyme's perfume !
For these are the sweets that bring no alloy
To dark Caledonia's mountain joy.

But O, thou breeze of the valley and hill !
Thou canst bring a richer offering still :
The kindly wish from the hall and the cot,
And the poor man's blessing, that's never forgot,
The shepherd's proud boast over every degree,
And the song of the maiden the dearest to me.
Come laden with these, thou breeze of the hill !
And the lay of the Minstrel shall hail thee still.