Adieu for evermore.
[This beautiful Jacobite song appears in Johnson's Museum, and doubtless received some touches from the masterly hand of Burns. Hogg says that it was written by a Captain Ogilvie, who fought on King James's side at the battle of the Boyne, and was afterwards killed on the banks of the Rhine in 1695. But we do not place the slightest reliance on this statement. Mr. Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe quotes an old street ballad, called "Bonnie Mally Stuart," written much in the same measure as the present song, and containing one verse almost exactly similar to the third verse here given, which is certainly the most beautiful of the whole. The first and the last stanzas of the ballad are as follows. It is the last stanza that so strongly resembles the one in the Jacobite song.
"The cold winter is past and gone,
And now comes on the spring,
And I am one of the king's life-guards,
And I must go fight for him, my dear,
And I must go fight for him.
"The trooper turn'd himself about,
All on the Irish shore;
He has given then the bridle-reins a shake,
Saying, Adieu for evermore, my dear,
Saying, Adieu for ever more!"]
It was a' for our rightfu' king,
We left fair Scotland's strand!
It was a' for our richtfu' king,
We e'er saw Irish land, my dear,
We e'er saw Irish land.
Now a' is done that men can do,
And a' is done in vain:
My love, my native land, farewell;
For I maun cross the main, my dear,
For I maun cross the main.
He turn'd him richt and round about
Upon the Irish shore,
And ga'e his bridle-reins a shake,
With, Adieu for evermore, my love,
With, Adieu for evermore.
The sodger frae the war returns,
The sailor frae the main;
But I ha'e parted frae my love,
Never to meet again, my love,
Never to meet again.
When day is gane, and nicht is come,
And a' folk bound to sleep,
I think on him that's far awa',
The lee-lang night, and weep, my dear,
The lee-lang night, and weep.
A weary lot is thine.
[The song quoted above, we are told by Mr. C. K. Sharpe, was an especial favourite of Sir Walter Scott's, and he was delighted to hear it sung by his daughter, Mrs. Lockhart. In the following song, which occurs in "Rokeby," the author, it will be seen, borrows the last verse from the old Jacobite strain. He says, "The last verse is taken from the fragment of an old Scottish ballad, of which I only recollected two verses when the first edition of Rokeby was published. Mr. Thomas Sheridan kindly pointed out to me an entire copy of this beautiful song, which seems to express the fortunes of some follower of the Stuart family."]
A weary lot is thine, fair maid,
A weary lot is thine!
To pull the thorn thy brow to braid,
And press the rue for wine.
A lightsome eye, a soldier's mein,
A feather of the blue,
A doublet of the Lincoln green,—
No more of me yon knew, my love!
No more of me you knew.
This morn is merry June, I trow,
The rose is budding fain;
But it shall bloom in winter snow,
Ere we two meet again.
He turn'd his charger as he spake,
Upon the river shore:
He gave his bridle-reins a shake,
Said, Adieu for evermore, my love!
And adieu for evermore.
