The Poetical Works of Robert Burns/Song of Death
For other versions of this work, see Song of Death.
SONG OF DEATH.
A GAELIC AIR.
Scene.—A field of battle. Time of the day—Evening. The wounded and dying of the victorious army are supposed to join in the song.
Farewell, thou fair day, thou green earth, and ye skies,Now gay with the bright setting sun!Farewell, loves and friendships, ye dear, tender ties,Our race of existence is run!
Thou grim King of Terrors, thou life's gloomy foe,Go, frighten the coward and slave!Go, teach them to tremble, fell Tyrant! but know,No terrors hast thou for the brave!
Thou strik'st the dull peasant—he sinks in the dark,Nor saves e'en the wreck of a name:Thou strik'st the young hero—a glorious mark!He falls in the blaze of his fame!
In the field of proud honour—our swords in our hands,Our King and our Country to save—While victory shines on life's last ebbing sands,O! who would not rest with the brave!