Glen Collection of printed music > Printed text > Jacobite minstrelsy

MINSTRELSY. 279
His right are these hills, and his right are these
vallies, [none !
Where wild beasts find shelter, tho' I can find
But 'tis not my sufferings, thus wretched,
forlorn ! [mourn ;
My brave gallant friends, 'tis your ruin I
Your faith proved so loyal in hot bloody trial,
Alas ! can I make it no better return.
PRINCE CHARLES'S LAMENT.
O think not I weep that an outcast I roam,
That the black heath at midnight thus cheer-
less I tread; [home,
Tho' the realm of my sires dare not yield me a
Scarce a cave on her mountains to shelter my
head.
Though the day brings no comfort, the night no
repose,
Yet not for my own doth my spirit repine,
But in anguish I weep for the sorrows of those
Whose eyes and whose bosoms have melted
for mine.
The yell of the blood-hounds that hunt them
by day,
On my short startled slumbers forever attends,
While the watch-fires that beacon my night-
covered way, [of my friends.
Are the flames that have burst from the roofs
an apology for the aberrations of Charles's later years, by ascribing
them to the influence of grief and disappointment pressing upon
a wounded and broken spirit.