But lane shall Scotland rue the day,
She saw her flag sae fiercely flying;
Culloden hills were hills o' wae;
Her laurels torn, her warriors dying.
Duncan now nae mair is ready,
Duncan now nae mair is ready!
The brand is fa'en frae out his han',
His bonnet blue lies stain'd an' bluidy!
Fair Flora's gane her love to seek,
Lang may she wait for his returnin';
The midnight dews fa' on her cheek;
What han' shall dry her tears o' mournin'?
Duncan now nae mair is ready, &c.
Hill of Lochiel.
[James Hogg.]
Long have I pined for thee,
Land of my infancy!
Now will I kneel on thee,
Hill of Lochiel!
Hill of the sturdy steer,
Hill of the roe and deer,
Hill of the streamlet clear,
I love thee well.
When in my youthful prime,
Correi and crag to climb,
Or towering cliff sublime,
Was my delight
Scaling the eagle's nest,
Wounding the raven's breast,
Skimming the mountain's crest,
Gladsome and light.
When, at the break of morn,
Proud o'er thy temples borne,
Kythed the red-deer's horn,
How my heart beat!
Then, when with stunned leap
Roll'd he adown the steep,
Never did hero reap
Conquest so great.
Then rose a bolder game,
Young Charlie Stuart came;
Cameron, that loyal name,
Foremost must be.
Hard then our warrior meed,
Glorious our warrior deed,
'Till we were doom'd to bleed
By treachery.
Then did the red blood stream,
Then was the broad sword's gleam
Quench'd in fair freedom's beam,
No more to shine;
Then was the morning's brow
Red with the fiery glow,
Fell hall and hamlet low,
All that were mine.
Then was our maiden young,
First aye in battle strong,
Fired at her prince's wrong,
Forced to give way.
Broke was the golden cup,
Gone Caledonia's hope;
Faithful and true men drop
Fast in the clay.
Far in a hostile land,
Stretch'd on a foreign strand,
Oft has the tear-drop bland
Scorch'd as it fell.
Once was I spurn'd from thee,
Long have I mourn'd for thee,
Now I'm return'd to thee,
Hill of Lochiel.
Red is the Rose.
[Air, "Broom blooms bonnie."]
How sweet the rose blaws, it fades and it fa's;
Red is the rose and bonnie, O:
It brings to my mind what my dear Johnnie was;
So bloom'd, so cut off was my Johnnie, O.
Now peace is return'd, but nae joy brings to me;
Red is the rose and bonnie, O:
For cold is his cheek, and closed is his e'e,
And nae mair beats the heart o' my Johnnie, O.
Ab! why did he love me, and leave these sweet plains;
Red is the rose and bonnie, O:
Where smiling contentment and peace ever reigns,
But they'll ne'er bloom again for my Johnnie, O.
