Prince Charlie.—A Charade.
He sailed for bonnie Scotland’s shore1
In sunny summer weather,2
Ne’er fairer Prince the tartan wore3
Among the hills and heather !4
The King should have his own, he swore,5
And friends and fortune beckon’d ;6
And while my first opprest the board,7
The ruddy wine was freely poured8
In wishing him my second.9
And though he turned a lingering glance10
Across the waters blue,11
To see the cliffs of kindly France12
Fast fading from his view,13
How gaily from his lips it broke14
The dreariest word man ever spoke !15
They hide his flight from Scotland’s shore,16
The mist and rain together,17
Whose foot shall never wander more18
Among the hills and heather ;19
For now the fight and all is o’er,20
And friends and fortune scattered,21
The King shall never have his own,22
Prince Charlie is bereft, alone,23
With hopes for ever shattered.24
And when the fog with friendly hand25
Had blotted out the main,26
One wish he uttered for the land27
He ne’er might see again,28
How sadly on his lips it hung,29
The dearest word in mortal tongue !30