| |
| THE WIND blew hollow frae the hills, | |
| By fits the sun’s departing beam | |
| Look’d on the fading yellow woods, | |
| That wav’d o’er Lugar’s winding stream: | |
| Beneath a craigy steep, a Bard, | 5 |
| 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; | 10 |
| His locks were bleached white with 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, | 15 |
| To Echo bore the notes alang. | |
| |
| “Ye scatter’d birds that faintly sing, | |
| The reliques o’ the vernal queir! | |
| Ye woods that shed on a’ the winds | |
| The honours of the agèd year! | 20 |
| A few short months, and glad and gay, | |
| Again ye’ll charm the ear and e’e; | |
| But nocht in all-revolving time | |
| Can gladness bring again to me. | |
| |
| “I am a bending agèd tree, | 25 |
| That long has stood the wind and rain; | |
| But now has come a cruel blast, | |
| And my last hald of earth is gane; | |
| Nae leaf o’ mine shall greet the spring, | |
| Nae simmer sun exalt my bloom; | 30 |
| But I maun lie before the storm, | |
| And ithers plant them in my room. | |
| |
| “I’ve seen sae mony changefu’ years, | |
| On earth I am a stranger grown: | |
| I wander in the ways of men, | 35 |
| Alike unknowing, and unknown: | |
| Unheard, unpitied, unreliev’d, | |
| I bear alane my lade o’ care, | |
| For silent, low, on beds of dust, | |
| Lie a’ that would my sorrows share. | 40 |
| |
| “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, | 45 |
| For a’ the life of life is dead, | |
| And hope has left may aged ken, | |
| On forward wing for ever fled. | |
| |
| “Awake thy last sad voice, my harp! | |
| The voice of woe and wild despair! | 50 |
| 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 | 55 |
| Thou brought from Fortune’s mirkest gloom. | |
| |
| “In Poverty’s low barren vale, | |
| Thick mists obscure involv’d me round; | |
| Though oft I turn’d the wistful eye, | |
| Nae ray of fame was to be found: | 60 |
| Thou found’st me, like the morning sun | |
| That melts the fogs in limpid air, | |
| The friendless bard and rustic song | |
| Became alike thy fostering care. | |
| |
| “O! why has worth so short a date, | 65 |
| While villains ripen grey with time? | |
| Must thou, the noble, gen’rous, great, | |
| Fall in bold manhood’s hardy prim | |
| Why did I live to see that day— | |
| A day to me so full of woe? | 70 |
| O! had I met the mortal shaft | |
| That laid my benefactor low! | |
| |
| “The bridegroom may forget the bride | |
| Was made his wedded wife yestreen; | |
| The monarch may forget the crown | 75 |
| 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!” | 80 |
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