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But now has come a cruel blast,

And last hold of earth is gane : Nae leaf o’mine shall greet the spring,

Nae simmer sun exalt my bloom ; 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,

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.

“ 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,

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 woe and wild despair ! 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

Thou brought from fortune's mirkest gloom.

“ In Poverty's low barren vale

Thick inists, obscure, involv'd me round; Though oft I turn’d the wistful eye,

No of fame was to be found : 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.


“Oh! why has worth so short a date ?

While villains ripen gray with time Must thou, the noble, gen'rous, great,

Fall in bold manhood's hardy prime ? Why did I live to see that day

A day to me so full of woe ?

Oh! had I met the mortal shaft

Which laid my benefactor low!

“The bridegroom may forget the bride

Was made his wedded wife yestreen; The monarch may forget the crown

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!”


UNCAN GRAY came here to woo,

Ha, ha, the wooing o't,
On blythe yule night when we were fou,

Ha, ha, the wooing o't.
Maggie coost her head fu’ bigli,
Look'd asklent and unco skeigh,
Gart poor Duncan stand abeigh ;

Ha, ha, the wooing o't.

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