| |
| 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. | 5 |
| The scatt’red coveys meet secure; | |
| While here I wander, prest with care, | |
| Along the lonely banks of Ayr. | |
| |
| The Autumn mourns her rip’ning corn | |
| By early Winter’s ravage torn; | 10 |
| Across her placid, azure sky, | |
| 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, | 15 |
| Far from the bonie banks of Ayr. | |
| |
| ’Tis not the surging billow’s roar, | |
| ’Tis not that fatal, deadly shore; | |
| Tho’ death in ev’ry shape appear, | |
| The wretched have no more to fear: | 20 |
| 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. | |
| |
| Farewell, old Coila’s hills and dales, | 25 |
| Her healthy 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: | 30 |
| The bursting tears my heart declare— | |
| Farewell, the bonie banks of Ayr! | |
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