Tune - "Morag." I. Streams That Glide In Orient Plains, Never Bound By Winter'S Chains; Glowing Here On Golden Sands, There Commix'D With Foulest Stains From Tyranny'S Empurpled Bands; These, Their Richly Gleaming Waves, I Leave To Tyrants And Their Slaves; Give Me The Stream That Sweetly Laves The Banks By Castle-Gordon. Ii. Spicy Forests, Ever Gay, Shading From The Burning Ray, Hapless Wretches Sold To Toil, Or The Ruthless Native'S Way, Bent On Slaughter, Blood, And Spoil: Woods That Ever Verdant Wave, I Leave The Tyrant And The Slave, Give Me The Groves That Lofty Brave The Storms By Castle-Gordon. Iii. Wildly Here Without Control, Nature Reigns And Rules The Whole; In That Sober Pensive Mood, Dearest To The Feeling Soul, She Plants The Forest, Pours The Flood; Life'S Poor Day I'll Musing Rave, And Find At Night A Sheltering Cave, Where Waters Flow And Wild Woods Wave, By Bonnie Castle-Gordon.