| |
1731
BEAUTIFUL face of a child, | |
| Lighted with laughter and glee, | |
| Mirthful, and tender, and wild, | |
| My heart is heavy for thee! | |
| |
1744
Beautiful face of a youth, | 5 |
| As an eagle poised to fly forth | |
| To the old land loyal of truth, | |
| To the hills and the sounds of the North: | |
| Fair face, daring and proud, | |
| Lo! the shadow of doom, even now, | 10 |
| The fate of thy line, like a cloud, | |
| Rests on the grace of thy brow! | |
| |
1773
Cruel and angry face, | |
| Hateful and heavy with wine, | |
| Where are the gladness, the grace, | 15 |
| The beauty, the mirth that were thine? | |
| |
| Ah, my Prince, it were well,— | |
| Hadst thou to the gods been dear,— | |
| To have fallen where Keppoch fell, | |
| With the war-pipe loud in thine ear! | 20 |
| To have died with never a stain | |
| On the fair White Rose of Renown, | |
| To have fallen, fighting in vain, | |
| For thy father, thy faith, and thy crown! | |
| More than thy marble pile, | 25 |
| With its women weeping for thee, | |
| Were to dream in thine ancient isle, | |
| To the endless dirge of the sea! | |
| But the Fates deemed otherwise; | |
| Far thou sleepest from home, | 30 |
| From the tears of the Northern skies, | |
| In the secular dust of Rome. | |
| A city of death and the dead, | |
| But thither a pilgrim came, | |
| Wearing on weary head | 35 |
| The crowns of years and fame: | |
| Little the Lucrine lake | |
| Or Tivoli said to him, | |
| Scarce did the memories wake | |
| Of the far-off years and dim, | 40 |
| For he stood by Avernus’ shore. | |
| But he dreamed of a Northern glen, | |
| And he murmured, over and o’er, | |
| “For Charlie and his men:” | |
| And his feet, to death that went, | 45 |
| Crept forth to St. Peter’s shrine, | |
| And the latest Minstrel bent | |
| O’er the last of the Stuart line. | |
| |
