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To crown the happy mundene scene,
I lov’d—nor did I love in vain;
The theme of all my artless lays,
Was my dear Lass of Calder-braes.

 Thrice happy days your loss I mourn,
You’re gone—ah! never to return:
Ambition’s ignis fatu’s glare
Transform’d my bliss to black despair!
The pomp of war, and pride of arms,
Appear'd with such resistless charms,
I left, to face my country’s faes,
My weeping maid on Calder-braes.

 In martial conflict first I shone,
In climes below the burning zone;
Beneath Seringapatam’s wall
I saw the tyrant Sultan’s fall.
Amidst the carnage of that day,
Where dead and dying round me lay,
’Midst cannon’s roar, and lightning’s blaze,
I thought on peaceful Calder-braes.

 With laurels crown'd, with wealth array’d,
Again I sought my native shade,
In hopes my long-lost love to meet,
To lay my laurels at her feet;
Alas ! I never saw her more,
My sanguine dreams of bliss are o’er!
My only pleasure’s now to gaze
On her lov'd grave on Calder-braes.