Life and Songs of the Baroness Nairne With a Memoir and Poems of Caroline Oliphant the Younger: Edited by the Rev. Charles Rogers ... With a Portrait and Other Illustrations |
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CASTELL GLOOM. |
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 | Life and Songs of the Baroness Nairne |  |
43
CASTELL GLOOM.
Oh, Castell Gloom! thy strength is gone,
The green grass o'er thee growin',
On hill of Care thou art alone,
The Sorrow round thee flowin'.
Oh Castell Gloom! on thy fair wa's
Nae banners now are streamin';
The houlit flits amang thy ha's,
And wild birds there are screamin'.
Oh! mourn the woe, oh mourn the crime,
Frae civil war that flows;
Oh! mourn, Argyle, thy fallen line,
And mourn the great Montrose.
The green grass o'er thee growin',
On hill of Care thou art alone,
The Sorrow round thee flowin'.
Oh Castell Gloom! on thy fair wa's
Nae banners now are streamin';
The houlit flits amang thy ha's,
And wild birds there are screamin'.
Oh! mourn the woe, oh mourn the crime,
Frae civil war that flows;
Oh! mourn, Argyle, thy fallen line,
And mourn the great Montrose.
Here ladies bright were aften seen,
Here valiant warriors trod;
And here great Knox has aften been,
Who feared nought but his God.
But a' are gane! the gude, the great,
And naething now remains,
But ruin sitting on thy wa's,
And crumblin' down the stanes!
Oh! mourn the woe, &C.
Here valiant warriors trod;
And here great Knox has aften been,
Who feared nought but his God.
But a' are gane! the gude, the great,
And naething now remains,
But ruin sitting on thy wa's,
And crumblin' down the stanes!
Oh! mourn the woe, &C.
44
The lofty Ochils bright did glow,
Tho' sleepin' was the sun:
But mornin's light did sadly show
What ragin' flames had done!
Oh! mirk, mirk, was the misty cloud,
That hung o'er thy wild wood;
Thou wert like beauty in a shroud,
And all was solitude.
Oh! mourn the woe, oh mourn the crime,
Frae civil war that flows;
Oh! mourn, Argyle, thy fallen line,
And mourn the great Montrose.
Tho' sleepin' was the sun:
But mornin's light did sadly show
What ragin' flames had done!
Oh! mirk, mirk, was the misty cloud,
That hung o'er thy wild wood;
Thou wert like beauty in a shroud,
And all was solitude.
Oh! mourn the woe, oh mourn the crime,
Frae civil war that flows;
Oh! mourn, Argyle, thy fallen line,
And mourn the great Montrose.
| Life and Songs of the Baroness Nairne | |