Obrázky na stránke
PDF
ePub

But now has come a cruel blast,
And my last hald of earth is gane;
Nae leaf o' mine shall greet the spring,
Nae simmer sun exalt my blooin;
But I maun lie before the storm,
And ithers plant them in my room.
"I've seen sae monie changefu' years,
On earth I am a stranger grown;
I wander in the ways of men,
Alike unknowing and unknown:
Unheard, unpitied, unreliev'd,
I bear alane my lade o' care,
For silent, low, on beds of dust,

Lie a' that would my sorrows share.

"And last (the sum of a' my griefs!)
My noble master lies in clay;
The flow'r amang our barons bold,
His country's pride, his country's stay;
In weary being now I pine,

For a' the life of life is dead,

And hope has left my aged ken,

On forward wing for ever fled.

"Awake thy last sad voice, my harp! The voice of wo and wild despair! Awake, resound thy latest lay,

Then sleep in silence evermair! And thou, my last, best, only friend, That fillest an untimely tomb, Accept this tribute from the bard

Thou brought from fortune's mirkest gloom.

"In poverty's low barren vale,

Thick mists, obscure, involved me round; Tho' oft I turn'd the wistful eye,

Nae ray of fame was to be found:

Thou found'st me like the morning sun
That melts the fogs in limpid air-
The friendless bard and rustic song,
Became alike thy fostering care.

"O! why has worth so short a date?
While villains ripen gray with time
Must thou, the noble, gen'rous, great,
Fall in bold manhood's hardy prime?
Why did I live to see that day?

A day to me so full of wo!
O! had I met the mortal shaft
Which laid my benefactor low!

"The bridegroom may forget the bride Was made his wedded wife yestreen; The monarch may forget the crown

That on his head an hour has been; The mother may forget the child

That smiles sae sweetly on her knee; But I'll remember thee, Glencairn,

And a' that thou hast done for me!'

LINES,

SENT TO SIR JOHN WHITEFORD, OF WHITEFORD, BART. With the foregoing Poem.

THOU who thy honour as thy God rever'st,

Who, save thy mind's reproach, nought earthly fear'st, To thee this votive offering I impart,

The tearful tribute of a broken heart.

The friend thou valued'st, I the patron lov'd;
His worth, his honour, all the world approv'd.

We'll mourn till we too go as he has gone,

And tread the dreary path to that dark world unknown.

STRATHALLAN'S LAMENT

THICKEST night o'erhangs my dwelling!
Howling tempests o'er me rave!
Turbid torrents, wintry swelling,
Still surround my lonely cave.

Crystal streamlets gently flowing,
Busy haunts of base mankind,
Western breezes softly blowing,
Suit not my distracted mind.

In the cause of right engaged,
Wrongs injurious to redress,
Honour's war we strongly waged,
But the Heavens denied success.

Ruin's wheel has driven o'er us,

Not a hope that dare attend,-
The wide world is all before us,
But a world without a friend!

[blocks in formation]

THE CHEVALIER'S LAMENT.

THE small birds rejoice in the green leaves returning;
The murmuring streamlet winds clear thro' the vale;
The hawthorn trees blow in the dews of the morning,
And wild-scattered cowslips bedeck the green dale:
But what can give pleasure, or what can seem fair,
While the lingering moments are number'd by care?
No flowers gayly springing, nor birds sweetly singing,
Can sooth the sad bosom of joyless despair.

The deed that I dar'd, could it merit their malice,
A king and a father to place on his throne?
His right are these hills, and his right are these vallies,
Where the wild beasts find shelter, but I can find none.

But 'tis not my sufferings, thus wretched, forlorn,
My brave, gallant friends, 'tis your ruin I mourn;
Your deeds prov'd so loyal in hot bloody trial,
Alaş! can I make you no sweeter return!

THE AUTHOR'S FAREWELL TO HIS NATIVE

COUNTRY.

Tune-"Roslin Castle."

I.

THE gloomy night is gath'ring fast,
Loud roars the wild, inconstant blast,
Yon murky cloud is foul with rain,
I see it driving o'er the plain;
The hunter now has left the moor,
The scatter'd coveys meet secure,
While here I wander, prest with care,
Along the lonely banks of Ayr.

II.

The Autumn mourns her rip'ning corn

By early Winter's ravage torn;

Across her placid azure sky,

[ocr errors]

She sees the scowling tempest fly:
Chill runs my blood to hear it rave,
I think upon the stormy wave,
Where many a danger I must dare,"
Far from the bonie banks of Ayr.

* A

III.

"Tis not the surging billows' roar,
"Tis not that fatal, deadly shore;
Though death in ev'ry shape appear,
The wretched have no more to fear:
But round my heart the ties are bound,
That heart transpierc'd with many a wound
These bleed afresh, those ties I tear
To leave the bonie banks of Ayr.

IV.

Farewell, old Coila's hills and dales,
Her heathy moors and winding vales
The scenes where wretched fancy roves,
Pursuing past, unhappy loves!

Farewell, my friends! farewell, my foes!
My peace with these, my love with those-
The bursting tears my heart declare,
Farewell the bonie banks of Ayr.

FAREWELL TO AYRSHIRE.

SCENES of wo and scenes of pleasure,
Scenes that former thoughts renew,
Scenes of wo and scenes of pleasure,
Now a sad and last adieu!

Bonie Doon, sae sweet and gloamin,
Fare thee weel before I gang!
Bonie Doon, whare, early roaming,
First I weav'd the rustic sang!

Bowers, adieu, whare Love, decoying,
First inthrall'd this heart o' mine,
There the safest sweets enjoying,
Sweets that Mem'ry ne'er shall tyne!

Friends, so near my bosom ever,
Ye hae render'd moments dear;
But, alas! when forc'd to sever,
Then the stroke, O hów severe !

Friends! that parting tear, reserve it,
Tho' 'tis doubly dear to me!
Could I think I did deserve it,
How much happier would I be!

Scenes of wo and scenes of pleasure,
Scenes that former thoughts renew,
Scenes of wo and scenes of pleasure,
Now a sad and last adieu!

THE FAREWELL TO THE BRETHREN OF ST.
JAMES'S LODGE, TARBOLTON.
Tune-"Good night, and joy be wi' you a'!"

I.

ADIEU! a heart-warm fond adieu !
Dear brothers of the mystic tye!
Ye favour'd, ye enlighten'd few,
Companions of my social joy!
Tho' I to foreign lands must hie,
Pursuing fortune's sliddery ba',
With melting heart, and brimful eye,
Ill mind you still, tho' far awa'.

II.

Oft have I met your social band,

And spent the cheerful, festive night:
Oft, honour'd with supreme command,
Presided o'er the sons of light:
And by that hieroglyphic bright,

Which none but craftsmen ever saw!
Strong mem'ry on my heart shall write
Those happy scenes when far awa'.

III.

May freedom, harmony, and love,
Unite you in the grand design,
Beneath the Omniscient Eye above,
The glorious Architect divine!
That you may keep the unerring line,
Still rising by the plummet's law,
Till order bright completely shine,
Shall be my pray'r when far awa.

IV

And you, farewell! whose merits claim,
Justly, that highest badge to wear!
Heav'n bless your honour'd, noble name,
To Masonry and Scotia dear!

« PredošláPokračovať »