VII. The morn that warns th' approaching day, I see the hours, in long array, That I must suffer, ling'ring slow: Full many a pang, and many a throe, Keen recollection's direful train, Must wring my soul, ere Phoebus, low, Shall kiss the distant western main. VIII. And when my nightly couch I try, Reigns haggard-wild, in sore affright; O! thou bright queen, who o'er th' expanse Now highest reign'st, with boundless sway' Oft has thy silent-marking glance Observ'd us, fondly-wand'ring, stray! The time, unheeded, sped away, While love's luxurious pulse beat high, Beneath thy silver-gleaming ray, To mark the mutual kindling eye. X. Oh! scenes in strong remembrance set! Scenes, if in stupor I forget, Again I feel, again I burn; From ev'ry joy and pleasure torn, LAMENT OF A MOTHER FOR THE DEATH OF HER SON. TUNE-"Finlayston House." FATE gave the word, the arrow sped, By cruel hands the sapling drops, So fell the pride of all my hopes, The mother linnet, in the brake, Death, oft I've fear'd thy fatal blow LAMENT FOR JAMES, EARL OF GLENCAIRN. THE wind blew hollow frae the hills, That wav'd o'er Lugar's winding stream; Laden with years and meikle pain, In loud lament bewail'd his lord, Whom death had all untimely ta'en. He lean'd him to an ancient aik, Whose trunk was mould'ring down with years; His locks were bleached white wi' time, His hoary cheek was wet wi' tears! And as he touch'd his trembling harp, And as he tun'd his doleful sang, The winds, lamenting thro' their caves, To Echo bore the notes alang. "Ye scatter'd birds that faintly sing, "I am a bending, aged tree, That long has stood the wind and rain But now has come a cruel blast, And my last hald of earth is gane; "I've seen sae monie changefu' years, I bear alane my lade o' care, 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, involv'd 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 fost'ring care. "Oh! why has worth so short a date? "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." |