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How wildly sweet is the minstrel's lay,

Through cliffs and wild woods ringing, For, ah! there is love to beacon his way,

And hope in the song he's singing! The bard may indite, and the minstrel sing,

And maidens may chorus it rarely ; But unless there be love in the heart within,

The ditty will charm but sparely.

FAREWELL TO GLEN-SHALLOCH.

This Jacobite song is set to an old Highland melody, by the late Mr R. A. Smith, to whom the vocal melodies of Scotland are more indebted than to any man that ever existed. The song itself was composed from a scrap of a translation in prose of what Mrs Fraser said was a Gaelic song.

FAREWELL to Glen-Shalloch,

A farewell for ever !

Farewell to my wee cot

That stands by the river !
The fall is loud sounding

In voices that vary,
And the echoes surrounding

Lament with my Mary.

I saw her last night,

'Mid the rocks that enclose them, With a child at her knee,

And a child at her bosom :

I heard her sweet voice

'Mid the depth of my slumber, And the

sang
Was of sorrow and cumber.

that she sung

Sleep sound, my sweet babe,

There is nought to alarm thee; The sons of the valley

No power have to harm thee! I'll sing thee to rest

In the balloch untrodden, With a coronach sad

For the slain of Culloden !

“ The brave were betray'd,

And the tyrant is daring To trample and waste us,

Unpitying, unsparing! Thy mother no voice has,

No feeling that changes, No word, sign, or song,

But the lesson of vengeance !

“ I'll tell thee, my son,

How our laurels are withering ; I'll bind on thy sword

When the clansmen are gathering; I'll bid thee go forth

In the cause of true honour, And never return

Till thy country hath won her!

« Our tower of devotion

Is the home of the reaver ;

The pride of the ocean

Is fallen for ever!

The pride of the forest,

That time could not weaken, Is trod in the dust,

And its honours are shaken !

“ Rise, spirits of yore,

Ever dauntless in danger ! For the land that was yours

Is the land of the stranger.

O come from your caverns,

All bloodless and hoary, And these fiends of the valley

Shall tremble before ye!”

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