Their little all now gone-their strength impair'd,
Home distant far and how their mother far'd!
Did rend their hearts-their kindred too
Now outcasts wander, as a vagrant crew !—
Their mother bending in the vale of years,
Sits in her lowly cot all bath'd in tears,
For winter winds roar in the desert glen;
And long she look'd for her two stately men !—
But, distance-winter-stare them in the face.
They homeward tend-but move with lingering pace.
Amid the Grampian wilds, weak, faint, forlorn,
Far on the heath they wait return of morn:
And long they look-but ah! they look in vain,
of dawn to them returns again!
Loud howls the coming blast o'er wastes of snow;
Down sink our travellers in hopeless woe-
Among the ice-hung cliffs the whirlwind high
In all its fury rages-o'er the sky
Dark clouds in form sublime heave up to sight,
New horrors adding to the noon of night—
Ah, little knows their aged mother where
Her sons lie shivering in the piercing air!
Tear not thy hoary tresses-shriek not so
Distracted matron!—ended is their woe!
Thy sons, no more, preventing each desire,
At close of day, shall trim thy evening fire :
No more" the tale of other times" shall sing,
Till gloomy Winter brightens into Spring;
Thy little farm and cot, and scanty store,
Their filial duty shall require no more;
Midst Winter's storms, Autumnal winds and rain,
The hill together ne'er shall climb again.
Ne'er shall they cull along the nameless stream,
The wild flowers opening to the Spring's mild beam.
When Summer's length'ning day, o'er mountains spread,
Pours genial warmth on nature's chilly bed,
No more beyond the midway heights to feed
The lowing herds to distant glens shall lead.
-Alas poor widow-childless too!-forlorn !-
Bereft of all!-no more at early morn
Th' accustom'd cake thy willing hands shall knead,
(A morsel choice) as starting from their bed
Ere peep of dawn, when all the hamlets still,
And day gleams faintly on the snow-clad hill,
To see that all be well, secure from harm
In sheltered ranges comfortable, warm-
When weary with the toil, at close of day,
And homeward bending on their trackless way,
No more the blazing faggot seen afar,
Shall strike their eager gaze, a guiding-star :
In vain, O wretched mother, you prepare
The frugal meal your sons can never share!
In vain, when young and old collected round,
Where harmless mirth and simple joys abound,
While tales of old, or sprightly dance or song,
Beguile the Winter nights, cold, dark, and long.
In vain, alas! with anxious, longing look
You watch their coming o'er yon ice-bound brook!
They come no more. Stretch'd lifeless on the heath
From home afar, their graves the snowy wreath !
Tear not thy hoary tresses-shriek not so
Distracted mother-ended is their woe!
Poor, childless, widow'd thing! ye howl in vain,
Alas! no joy to you returns again!
-Once every comfort beam'd around her shed,
Though now, save hope, are all her comforts fled.
Placed in the golden mean of rural life,
How blest her lot when first she smiled the wife,
The joyous mother, and the mistress mild,
While sweets domestic every care beguil'd;
Till that sad day when warn'd to quit the farm,
(And all the country round first took th' alarm)
Then pale-faced poverty, neglect, disgrace,
With hideous aspect stared her in the face!
An outcast among thousands doom'd to roam
The world's wide wilderness thrust from their native home!
VII. Ye gay, voluptuous, affluent, thoughtless few!
How light ye hold the ills that reach not you!
You heed not what th' industrious poor annoy,
While in the madening whirl of frantic joy
Ye riot wildly!-or, profusely gay,
In splendour deck'd, ye grace the ball or play,
The midnight masquerade, that motley scene,
Where fashion, folly, feeble pride are seen.
Then, timely wise, arrest your wild career,
To ruin tending fast year after year;
Ere shame eventual, poverty, disgrace,
In hideous aspect stare you in the face.—
Turn then, O turn, ere yet too late, your eyes
To where the hoary Grampians meet the skies,
From stern oppression save our sinking GAËL,
Your bright example will at length prevail !
Yes, yes there still remain a faithful few,
Their country's pride, and to her interests true,
Who have not basely bow'd the knee to Baal,
And will not coolly ́see their country fall.
Yes, generous masters !-patriots steady, true!
Our SENATE wisely trusts in part to you, (8)
To lead the van in what may justly seem
The welfare of the poor-and what you deem
Most apt to expedite the glorious plan,
Which, once display'd to every thinking man,
And clearly understood-the common cause
Will then be sanctioned by our envied laws.
O what a pleasing thought, ye virtuous Great
While thus still mindful of the humble state
Of those industrious in the lower toils
Among the Grampians and our western isles.
Tired with the ceaseless din, and joys of town,
While softly you repose on beds of down,
Think then, O think, when loudly roars the wind
Of those who face the storm ye leave behind :
Or while ye glide along in idle case,
Safe from the wintry blast or chilly breeze;
Or when the board is spread, and sparkling wine Yield joys luxuriant to the soul supine,
Be mindful always of those far away,
Who for your comforts toil from day to day.
Secure to them, in turn, their frugal fare,
And thus regard them with parental care.
Existing evils soon will be relieved,
And long lost blessings quickly be retrieved.
Thus
your example brilliantly will shine, Age after age shall hail the blaze divine.
And Fame on hoary rocks the names shall
grave Of those who did the Gaël and Grampians save.Conjoin'd then with our SENATE, hand in hand, Ye truely Great! O save our native land!
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