The Book of Scottish Song/Fair in Kinrara
Fair in Kinrara.
[Written by the Rev. Mr. Allardice, of Forgue, in memory of the late Duchess of Gordon.—Set to music by John Knott, Aberdeen.]
Fair in Kinrara blooms the rose,
And softly waves the drooping lily,
Where beauty's faded charms repose,
And splendour rests on earth's cold pillow.
Her smile, who sleeps in yonder bed,
Could once awake the soul to pleasure,
When fashion's airy train she led,
And form'd the dance's frolic measure.
When war call'd forth our youth to arms,
Her eye inspired each martial spirit;
Her mind, too, felt the muse's charms,
And gave the meed to modest merit.
But now farewell, fair northern star,
Thy beams no more shall courts enlighten,
No more lead forth our youth to arms,
No more the rural pastures brighten.
Long, long thy loss shall Scotia mourn;
Her vales, which thou were wont to gladden,
Shall long look cheerless and forlorn,
And grief the minstrel's music sadden.
And oft, amid the festive scene,
Where pleasure cheats the midnight pillow,
A sigh shall breathe for noble Jane,
Laid low beneath Kinrara's willow.