THE HARPER O' MULL.
WHEN Rosie was faithful, how happy was I,
Still gladsome as simmer the time glided by,
I play'd my harp cheery, while fondly I sang,
Of the charms of my Rosie the winter nights tang;
But now I'm as wofu' as wofu' can be,
Come simmer, come winter, 'tis a' ane to me;
For the dark gloom of falsehood sae clouds my sad soul,
That cheerless for ay is the Harper o' Mull.
I wander the glens an' the wild woods alone,
In their deepest recesses I make my sad moan;
My harp's mournful melody joins in the strain,
While sadly I sing o' the days that are gane:
Tho' Rosie is faithless, she's nae the less fair,
An' the thoughts o' her beauty but feeds my despair;
Wi' painfu' remembrance my bosom is full,
An' weary o' life is the Harper o' Mull.
As slumb'ring I lay by the dark mountain's stream,
My lovely young Rosie appear'd in my dream,
I thought her still kind, and I ne'er was sae blest,
As in fancy I clasp'd the dear Nymph to my breast:
Thou false fleeting vision too soon thou wert o'er,
Thou wak'd'st me to tortures unequal'd before ;
But death's silent slumbers my griefs soon shall lull.
And the green grass wave o'er the Harper o' Mull.
View Commentary | Download PDF Facsimile
Probable period of publication:
1830-1850 shelfmark: L.C.Fol.178.A.2(227)
View larger image