William Drummond of Hawthornden

  • This Life

    This Life, which seems so fair,
    Is like a bubble blown up in the air
    By sporting children’s breath,
    Who chase it everywhere
    And strive who can most motion it bequeath.
    And though it sometimes seem of its own might
    Like to an eye of gold to be fixed...

  • “Alexis, here she stayed”

    Alexis, here she stayed; among these pines,
    Sweet hermitress, she did alone repair;
    Here did she spread the treasure of her hair,
    More rich than that brought from the Colchian mines.
    She sate her by these muskèd eglantines,
    The happy place the print seems...