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.