Volume Iv Part 8 (1/2)
Leafless and bare were the shrub and the flower, Cauld was the drift that blew over yon mountain, But caulder my heart at his last ling'ring hour, Though warm was the tear-drap that fell frae my e'e.
O saft is the tint o' the gowan sae bonny, The blue heather-bell and the rose sweet as ony, But softer the blink o' his bonnie blue e'e, And sweeter the smile o' young Jamie.
Dark lowers the cloud o'er yon mountain sae hie, Faint gloams the sun through the mists o' the ocean, Rough rows the wave on whose bosom I see The wee bit frail bark that bears Jamie frae me.
Oh, lang may I look o'er yon wild waste sae dreary, And lang count the hours, now so lonesome and weary, And oft may I see the leaf fade frae the tree, Ere I see the blithe blink o' his bonnie blue e'e.
Cheerless and wae, on yon snaw-cover'd thorn, Mournfu' and lane is the chirp o' the Robin, He looks through the storm, but nae shelter can see; Come, Robin, and join the sad concert wi' me.
Oh, lang may I look o'er yon foam-crested billow, And Hope dies away like a storm-broken willow; Sweet Robin, the blossom again ye may see, But I'll ne'er see the blink o' his bonnie blue e'e.
FOOTNOTES:
[9] Printed for the first time.
CHARLIE'S BONNET'S DOWN, LADDIE.
AIR--_”Tullymet.”_
Let Highland lads, wi' belted plaids, And bonnets blue and white c.o.c.kades, Put on their s.h.i.+elds, unsheathe their blades, And conquest fell begin; And let the word be Scotland's heir: And when their swords can do nae mair, Lang bowstrings o' their yellow hair Let Hieland la.s.ses spin, laddie.
Charlie's bonnet's down, laddie, Kilt yer plaid and scour the heather; Charlie's bonnet's down, laddie, Draw yer dirk and rin.
Mind Wallace wight, auld Scotland's light, And Douglas bright, and Scrymgeour's might, And Murray Bothwell's gallant knight, And Ruthven light and trim-- Kirkpatrick black, wha in a crack Laid Cressingham upon his back, Garr'd Edward gather up his pack, And ply his spurs and rin, laddie.
Charlie's bonnet's down, &c.
HEARD YE THE BAGPIPE?
Heard ye the bagpipe, or saw ye the banners That floated sae light o'er the fields o' Kildairlie; Saw ye the broadswords, the s.h.i.+elds and the tartan hose, Heard ye the muster-roll sworn to Prince Charlie?
Saw ye brave Appin, wi' bonnet and belted plaid, Or saw ye the Lords o' Seaforth and Airlie; Saw ye the Glengarry, M'Leod, and Clandonachil, Plant the white rose in their bonnets for Charlie?
Saw ye the halls o' auld Holyrood lighted up, Kenn'd ye the n.o.bles that revell'd sae rarely; Saw ye the chiefs of Lochiel and Clanronald, Wha rush'd frae their mountains to follow Prince Charlie?
But saw ye the blood-streaming fields of Culloden, Or kenn'd ye the banners were tatter'd sae sairly; Heard ye the pibroch sae wild and sae wailing, That mourn'd for the chieftains that fell for Prince Charlie.
Wha, in yon Highland glen, weary and shelterless, Pillows his head on the heather sae barely; Wha seeks the darkest night, wha maunna face the light, Borne down by lawless might--gallant Prince Charlie?
Wha, like the stricken deer, chased by the hunter's spear, Fled frae the hills o' his father sae scaredly; But wha, by affection's chart, reigns in auld Scotland's heart-- Wha but the royal, the gallant Prince Charlie?
BRUCE'S ADDRESS.