Glen Collection of printed music > Printed text > Harp of Renfrewshire

413
That gild with living hues his Heaven-taught song,
And make his ravished soul the strains prolong ;
Till, wrapt in visions of a brighter time.
Earth new-created seems, as in her prime,
When angel miisic fell upon her ear.
And Heaven blessed the young revolving sphere.
But, ah ! before that halcyon morn shall rise
And spread its beauties o'er the smiling skies,
The tragic muse shall weep o'er nations' woes,
And tears of blood their awful strifes disclose.
The gloomy, wintry day, was closing fast,
The biting cold came rushing on the blast
And from the sentry's breath, as to and fro
He paced his rounds amid the drifting snow.
He paused at times, and strained both eye and ear,
Lest some poor wounded comrade might be near.
Who, from the foe escaped, had struggled on
To reach the fort where British valour shone
With wonted lustre on that dismal night
Of darkest treachery and disastrous flight ;
For gallant Sale and his devoted band.
Few, but all heroes, joined in heart and hand.
Resolved that, come what might, they there had found
Their field of triumph, or their burial ground :
They stood for months at bay, and kept their post,
When British power and honour all seemed lost.
The sentry saw at last, through sleet and rain,
Some one on horseback staggering o'er the plain :
The faint and foaming steed was sorely pressed.
And he who rode leant forward on his breast ;
With one encumbered hand he held the rein.
The other sought to staunch a wound in vain ;
All soaked in blood, the rider and the horse
Came reeling forward on their perilous course.