Poems, on sacred and other subjects and songs, humorous and sentimental: By the late William Watt. Third edition of the songs only--with additional songs |
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 | Poems, on sacred and other subjects |  |
THE EMIGRANT'S LAMENT.
Lovely Scotia, my home,
'Twas with sorrow I left thee,
While through want I did roam,
When of joy she bereft me.
I was once blithe and gay
On the green banks of Yarrow,
Now I sigh night and day
By the Falls of Ni'gara.
'Twas with sorrow I left thee,
While through want I did roam,
When of joy she bereft me.
I was once blithe and gay
On the green banks of Yarrow,
Now I sigh night and day
By the Falls of Ni'gara.
As all lonely I toil
In the dull frowning wildwood,
Fancy wanders, the while,
'Midst the haunts of my childhood;
With my Mary I rove
On the sweet braes of Yarrow;
While I hew the dark grove
By the Falls of Ni'gara.
In the dull frowning wildwood,
Fancy wanders, the while,
'Midst the haunts of my childhood;
With my Mary I rove
On the sweet braes of Yarrow;
While I hew the dark grove
By the Falls of Ni'gara.
Here, the green robe of spring
Decks the glens and the mountains,
And the maids blithely sing
By the wood-shaded fountains;
But more pleasure I found
On the calm banks of Yarrow,
Than can dwell near the sound
Of the Falls of Ni'gara.
Decks the glens and the mountains,
And the maids blithely sing
By the wood-shaded fountains;
But more pleasure I found
On the calm banks of Yarrow,
Than can dwell near the sound
Of the Falls of Ni'gara.
Here, the sun's radiant blaze,
On the mead, beams as brightly—
Here, the moon's yellow rays,
On the lake, dance as lightly—
Here, the winds breathe as mild
As they e'er fann'd on Yarrow—
Yet to me all seems wild
By the falls of Ni'gara.
On the mead, beams as brightly—
Here, the moon's yellow rays,
On the lake, dance as lightly—
Here, the winds breathe as mild
As they e'er fann'd on Yarrow—
Yet to me all seems wild
By the falls of Ni'gara.
Oh! ye soft ties of love,
Why of Mary remind me?
From my bosom remove
The dear maid left behind me!
Else, I live all in vain
When I'm far, far from Yarrow,
Torn by love's burning pain
By the Falls of Ni'gara.
Why of Mary remind me?
282
The dear maid left behind me!
Else, I live all in vain
When I'm far, far from Yarrow,
Torn by love's burning pain
By the Falls of Ni'gara.
| Poems, on sacred and other subjects | |