'TWAS
WHEN
THE
SUN
SLID
DOWN
YON
HILL
.
Air
—
Ettrick
Banks
.
'TWAS
when
the
sun
slid
down
yon
hill
,
And
Evening
wander'd
through
the
dale
,
When
busy
life
was
growing
still
,
And
homeward
swam
the
milking
pail
;
'Twas
then
I
sought
the
murmuring
stream
,
That
seem'd
like
me
to
talk
of
woes
,
And
lengthen
out
life's
weary
dream
,
Which
on
like
its
dull
current
flows
.
Why
dwells
the
soul
on
pleasures
past
?
Why
think
I
Marion
once
was
true
?
Those
fleeting
joys
that
fled
so
fast
,
Why
should
fond
fancy
still
renew
?
When
fortune
drove
me
far
away
,
My
heart
,
dear
Marion
,
dwelt
with
thee
;
E'en
now
methinks
I
hear
thee
say
,
—
Wilt
thou
,
dear
youth
,
remember
me
?
O
yes
!
I
cried
;
no
change
of
place
,
Nor
favouring
fortune's
better
day
,
Can
e'er
erase
thy
lovely
face
,
Or
wear
thy
heart-stamp'd
form
away
.
Though
mountains
rise
,
and
oceans
roar
,
They'll
prove
but
feeble
bars
to
me
;
In
soul
I'll
seek
my
native
shore
,
And
wander
every-where
with
thee
.
And
still
,
dull
absence
to
deceive
,
My
thoughts
fled
to
each
former
scene
;
And
fancy
fondly
made
believe
I
was
again
where
once
I'd
been
!
I
tended
Marion's
evening
walk
;
We
sat
beneath
the
trysting
tree
;
I
saw
her
smile
,
and
heard
her
talk
,
And
vow
to
love
and
live
for
me
!
But
time
and
absence
both
conspir'd
,
And
Marion's
truth
forgot
its
vow
;
And
Fashion
many
a
wish
acquir'd
,
That
turns
to
wants
—
we
knew
not
how
.
O
Marion
!
could
I
e'er
have
thought
That
Splendour
would
have
rivall'd
me
,
This
foolish
heart
I
ne'er
had
taught
To
think
,
as
it
still
thinks
,
on
thee
!
Still
through
my
heart
thy
image
strays
;
Thy
breath
is
in
each
breeze
that
blows
;
Thy
smile
,
thy
song
,
in
by-past
days
In
Memory's
page
more
vivid
glows
!
So
long
my
thoughts
with
thee
have
dwelt
,
They're
far
the
dearest
part
of
me
;
For
,
O
!
this
heart
too
long
has
felt
It
loves
and
only
lives
for
thee
!