The Black-bird/The Bonny Lass of Calder-Braes
For other versions of this work, see The Bonny Lass of Calder Braes (song).
THE
Bonny Lass of Calder-Braes.
(Tune—Logan-Water.)
When cares were few, and life was young,⟨On⟩Calder-braes I danc’d and sung,⟨Unpain’d⟩ by keen remorse’s dart,⟨Lay⟩ flow’d spontaneous from my heart; To crown the happy mundene scene,I lov’d—nor did I love in vain;The theme of all my artless lays,Was my dear Lass of Calder-braes.
Thrice happy days your loss I mourn,You’re gone—ah! never to return:Ambition’s ignis fatu’s glareTransform’d my bliss to black despair!The pomp of war, and pride of arms,Appear'd with such resistless charms,I left, to face my country’s faes,My weeping maid on Calder-braes.
In martial conflict first I shone,In climes below the burning zone;Beneath Seringapatam’s wallI saw the tyrant Sultan’s fall.Amidst the carnage of that day,Where dead and dying round me lay,’Midst cannon’s roar, and lightning’s blaze,I thought on peaceful Calder-braes.
With laurels crown'd, with wealth array’d,Again I sought my native shade,In hopes my long-lost love to meet,To lay my laurels at her feet;Alas ! I never saw her more,My sanguine dreams of bliss are o’er!My only pleasure’s now to gazeOn her lov'd grave on Calder-braes.