LOCHABAR NO MORE.
115
A thousand saddened memories,
That knew no name nor place,
Like friends with tearful, downcast eyes,
And hesitating pace,
Came to his heart reproachfully.
And told of former hours,
When vows were made beneath the sky,
And witnessed by the flowers.
That knew no name nor place,
Like friends with tearful, downcast eyes,
And hesitating pace,
Came to his heart reproachfully.
And told of former hours,
When vows were made beneath the sky,
And witnessed by the flowers.
He heard familiar voices tell
Of many a deed of fame,
Of the land that Wallace loved so well,
That sung the Bruce's name.
And he saw their plaided hosts upstart,
In menacing array,
As old tradition o'er his heart,
Resumed her ancient sway.
Of many a deed of fame,
Of the land that Wallace loved so well,
That sung the Bruce's name.
And he saw their plaided hosts upstart,
In menacing array,
As old tradition o'er his heart,
Resumed her ancient sway.
The vision passed, and mournfully
He thought upon the graves,
Of those whose lot it was to die,
Beyond the dark blue waves.
And the sky above was bright no more,
The flowers no longer fair,
The dreams that filled his heart were o'er,
And memory only there.
He thought upon the graves,
Of those whose lot it was to die,
Beyond the dark blue waves.
And the sky above was bright no more,
The flowers no longer fair,
The dreams that filled his heart were o'er,
And memory only there.
And he returned, at last to sleep
Upon his country's breast,
To lie, where kindred eyes might weep
Above his place of rest.
Upon his country's breast,
To lie, where kindred eyes might weep
Above his place of rest.
