Scotland: A Jacobite's Lament.

Where are those days, O Caledon,      So glorious and bright,     In which thy star resplendent shone      With passing lustrous light?     Alas! alas! those happier days      Are shrouded in the past,     Thy glory was like that of Greece,      Too bright it shone to last.     Where are those knightly heroes bold,      Those champions of the right,     That bore the shield and couched the lance      So valiant in the fight?     Whether for king and country's weal      In freedom's cause they strove,     Or courted glory and renown      To win their lady-love.     The Wallace nobly lived and died      To save his land from shame,     The royal Bruce as nobly fought      Her freedom to reclaim.     How would their generous hearts have mourned      Could they have pierced the veil,     And, peering into future years,      Have read thy woful tale!     Then patriots raised the royal flag      Around the noble Graemes,     And dyed the heather with their blood      For Scotland and King James.     A wreath of honour nobly won      Encircled then thy brow;     How is that garland, once so green,      So sadly faded now?     Now mercenary lust hath ta'en      The place of chivalry,     And that devoted Faith of yore      Is gone for bigotry.     What wonder then that to my eye      The tear will sometimes start?     What wonder that the clouds of grief      Hang heavy o'er my heart?