The Poetical Works of Hector MacNeill ... A New Edition, Corrected and Enlarged. In Two Volumes |
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DONALD AND FLORA,
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 | The Poetical Works of Hector MacNeill |  |
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DONALD AND FLORA,
A BALLAD, ON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND KILLED AT THE BATTLE OF SARATOGA. 1778.
When many hearts were gay,
Careless of aught but play,
Poor Flora slipt away
Sadd'ning to Mora .
Loose flowed her golden hair,
Quick heaved her bosom bare,
As thus to the troubled air
She vented her sorrow:
Careless of aught but play,
Poor Flora slipt away
Sadd'ning to Mora .
Loose flowed her golden hair,
Quick heaved her bosom bare,
As thus to the troubled air
She vented her sorrow:
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Loud howls the stormy west,
Cold, cold is winter's blast:—
Haste then, O Donald, haste!
Haste to thy Flora!
Twice twelve long months are o'er
Since on a foreign shore
You promised to fight no more,
But meet me in Mora.
Cold, cold is winter's blast:—
Haste then, O Donald, haste!
Haste to thy Flora!
Twice twelve long months are o'er
Since on a foreign shore
You promised to fight no more,
But meet me in Mora.
“Where now is Donald dear?”
Maids cry with taunting sneer;
“Say, is he still sincere
To his loved Flora?”
Parents upbraid my moan;
Each heart is turned to stone;—
Ah Flora! thou'rt now alone,
Friendless in Mora!
Maids cry with taunting sneer;
“Say, is he still sincere
To his loved Flora?”
Parents upbraid my moan;
Each heart is turned to stone;—
Ah Flora! thou'rt now alone,
Friendless in Mora!
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Come then, O come away!
Donald, no longer stay!—
Where can my rover stray
From his loved Flora?
Ah, sure he ne'er could be
False to his vows and me!—
Oh heav'ns! is not yonder he
Bounding o'er Mora!
Donald, no longer stay!—
Where can my rover stray
From his loved Flora?
Ah, sure he ne'er could be
False to his vows and me!—
Oh heav'ns! is not yonder he
Bounding o'er Mora!
“Never, O wretched fair,”
Sighed the sad messenger,
“Never shall Donald mair
Meet his loved Flora!
Cold as yon mountain snow
Donald thy love lies low!
He sent me to sooth thy woe,
Weeping in Mora.
Sighed the sad messenger,
“Never shall Donald mair
Meet his loved Flora!
Cold as yon mountain snow
Donald thy love lies low!
He sent me to sooth thy woe,
Weeping in Mora.
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“Well fought our valiant slain
On Saratoga's plain;
Thrice fled the hostile train
From British glory.
But ah! though our foes did flee,
Sad was each victory.
Youth, love, and loyalty,
Fell far from Mora!
On Saratoga's plain;
Thrice fled the hostile train
From British glory.
But ah! though our foes did flee,
Sad was each victory.
Youth, love, and loyalty,
Fell far from Mora!
“Here take this love-wrought plaid,”
Donald expiring said,
“Give it to yon dear maid
Drooping in Mora.
Tell her, O Allan, tell!
Donald thus bravely fell,
And that in his last farewell
He thought on his Flora.
Donald expiring said,
“Give it to yon dear maid
Drooping in Mora.
Tell her, O Allan, tell!
Donald thus bravely fell,
And that in his last farewell
He thought on his Flora.
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Mute stood the trembling fair,
Speechless with wild despair,
Then striking her bosom bare,
Sighed out “poor Flora!
Ah Donald!—ah well-a-day!”
Was all the fond heart could say.
At length the sound died away
Feebly on Mora.
Speechless with wild despair,
Then striking her bosom bare,
Sighed out “poor Flora!
Ah Donald!—ah well-a-day!”
Was all the fond heart could say.
At length the sound died away
Feebly on Mora.
| The Poetical Works of Hector MacNeill | |