III. No idly-feign'd poetic pains, My sad love-lorn lamentings claim; IV. Encircled in her clasping arms, How have the raptur'd moments flown! How have I wish'd for fortune's charms, For her dear sake, and her's alone! And must I think it! is she gone, My secret heart's exulting boast ? And does she heedless hear my groan? And is she ever, ever lost? V. Oh! can she bear so base a heart, The plighted husband of her youth! Her way may lie thro' rough distress! Then, who her pangs and pains will sooth, Her sorrows share, and make them less. VI. Ye winged hours that o'er us past, That breast how dreary now, and void, VII. The morn that warns th' approaching day, That I must suffer, lingering, slow. VIII. And when my nightly couch I try, Reigns haggard-wild, in sore affright; From such a horror-breathing night. IX. O! thou bright queen, who o'er th' expanse Observ'd us, fondly-wand'ring, stray! To mark the mutual kindling eye. X. Oh! scenes in strong remembrance set! Again I feel, again I burn 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, 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, A few short months, and glad and gay, Can gladneas bring again to me. "I am a bending aged tree, That long has stood the wind and rainBut now has come a cruel blast, And my last hald of earth is gane; "I've seen sae monie changefu' years, Lie a' that would my sorrows share. "And last (the sum of a' my griefs!) 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! |