It is night; and I am alone, forlorn on the hill of storms. The wind is heard in the mountain. The torrent shrieks down the rock. No hut receives me from the rain; forlorn on the hill of winds. Rise, moon! from behind thy clouds; stars of the night, appear! Lead me, some light, to the place where my love rests from the toil of the chase! his bow near him, unstrung; his dogs panting around him. But here I must sit alone, by the rock of the mossy stream. The stream and the wind roar; nor can I hear the voice of my love. (Fragment of ancient Scottish poem, collected by James Macpherson) Today we read some ancient Scottish highland poetry. It’s mesmerising. We also begin brilliant Benjamin Franklin’s ‘autobiography’. Free to listen and no adverts. You’re most welcome 🤗 buzzsprout.com/2412300/episo…