text:  Oh balm of the Weary! Oh soother of pain! That still to the sad givest pity and dole; How gently oh sleep! lay thy wings on his brain How sweet were thy dreams to his desolate soul! Once more on his green native braes of the Nith He pluck'd the wild bracken a frolicsome boy; He sported his limbs in the waves of the Frith; He trod the green heather in gladness and joy;-- On his gallant grey steed to the hunting he rode In his bonnet a plume on his bosom a star; He chased the red deer to its mountain abode And track'd the wild roe to its covert afar