IT was a' for our rightfu' King
We left fair Scotland's strand;
It was a' for our rightfu' King
We e'er saw Irish land,
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Nae lark in transport mounts the sky
Or leaves wi' early plaintive cry,
But I will bid a last good-bye,
My last farewell to Stirling O.
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FAREWELL to the Highlands, farewell to the North,
The birth-place of Valour, the country of Worth;
Wherever I wander, wherever I rove,
The hills of the Highlands for ever I love.
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FROM thee, Eliza, I must go,
And from my native shore;
The cruel fates between us throw
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ADIEU! a heart-warm fond adieu;
Dear brothers of the mystic tie!
Ye favourèd, enlighten'd few,
Companions of my social joy;
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THE GLOOMY night is gath'ring fast,
Loud roars the wild, inconstant blast,
Yon murky cloud is foul with rain,
I see it driving o'er the plain;
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FAREWELL, ye dungeons dark and strong,
The wretch's destinie!
M'Pherson's time will not be long
On yonder gallows-tree.
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FAREWELL, thou stream that winding flows
Around Eliza's dwelling;
O mem'ry! spare the cruel thoes
Within my bosom swelling.
...