Lament.
[Written on the death of the Ettrick Shepherd, by the Rev. James Murray, author of the original songs given at page 39. Set to music by Peter Macleod.]
The summer hath pass'd o'er the Yarrow's green mountains,
The birch trembled wild by Loch Mary's lone shore;
The winter approaches to bind up the fountains,
But the Bard of the Forest shall cheer us no more.
No more shall he stray in the dusk of the gloaming,
To dream of the spirits in lands far away!
No more shall he list to the tempest loud moaning;
For the Bard of the Forest lies cold in the clay!
He rests with his fathers, no more to awaken
Sweet strains by the streamlets that speed to the main,
The wild echo sleeps in the glen of green bracken,
But the Shepherd shall never awake it again!
Bloom sweetly around him, ye pale drooping roses,
Breathe softly, ye winds, o'er his cold narrow bed!
Fall gently, ye dews, where the minstrel reposes,
And hallow the wild flowers that wave o'er his head!