Old Scotland’s Lament.
I.
Oh ! for the souls of our ancient men of might !1
For the Douglas, for the Randolph, and for the Wallace wight !2
For the Bruce, whose sweeping curtel-axe hew’d down our foes like grain !—3
Since Scotland can never be Old Scotland again !4
In danger’s hour on mount and moor the Fiery Cross was seen ;5
Our banner was St Andrew ; our badge the Thistle green ;6
That badge was borne across the field, while blood fell down like rain,—7
But Scotland can never be Old Scotland again
!8
II.
Bleak and bare our hills may be, and barren though our shore,9
Yet every glen its hut had then a valiant heart that bore ;10
From Southern Tweed to John o’Groat’s, ’twas every inch our ain,—11
But Scotland can never be Old Scotland again
!12
Learned then our Clerks were all, and lofty the Laws,13
That to the Peasant and the Peer made each alike their cause ;14
It was then we had a King and Court, and a Country a’ our ain,—15
But Scotland can never be Old Scotland again
!16
III.
We were proud though we were poor,—our mountains were our own ;17
We bore the Flag of Freedom up, and lowered it to none !18
But our Friends betray’d the rights for which our Foes had striven in vain,—19
And Scotland can never be Old Scotland again
!20
Look to our ruin’d towers on every crested hill—21
Although decay’d by storm and raid, they breathe defiance still ;22
Through halls where Lords and Ladies swept, now sweep the wind and rain,—23
And Scotland can never be Old Scotland again
!24
IV.
Where is the Bruce’s crown ? It decks another land !25
Where are our Chieftains now ? They seek a richer strand !26
The bearers of the Fiery Cross now mourn beyond the main—27
That Scotland never can be Old Scotland again ! ! 28
Gone are the gallant hearts that kept our foes at bay ;29
And gone are all the broadswords that gleam’d on battle-day ;30
“ Our hearts are dust, our swords are rust, ” and our lament is vain— 31
For Scotland can never be Old Scotland again
!32