Song.
Air.— “ Flowers of the Forest.”
Now winter is banish’d—his dark clouds are vanish’d,1
And sweet spring has come wi’ her treasures so rare ;2
The young flowers are springing—the wee birds are
singing,3
singing,3
And soothing the breast that is laden wi’ care,4
But lov’d ones are weeping—their lone vigils keeping—5
The dark prison cell is the p!ace of their doom ;6
The sun has nae shining to soothe their repining—7
To gild or to gladden their dwellings of gloom.8
To them is ne’er given the loved light of heaven,9
Though sair they are sighing to view it again ;10
Though fair flowers are blowing, in full beauty glowing,11
They flourish or fade for the captive’s in vain.12
And thus are they lying—in lone dungeons dying—13
The sworn friends of freedom—the tried aud the true ;14
By slow famine wasted—life’s bright vision blasted—15
summer’s prime shaded by winter’s dark hue.16
In vain are they wailing—nae tears are availing,17
But tyrants exult o’er their victims laid low,18
Or look on unheeding, though life’s race is speeding ;19
Their fears will depart with the death of their foe.20
But! look not so proudly, and laugh not so loudly,21
Nor dream that the struggle of freedom is o’er ;22
Your prisons may martyr the chiefs o’ our Charter,23
But the bright spark it kindled shall burn as before.24
And winter is coming—wi’ wild terrors glooming,25
To weaken the sunbeam and wither the tree ;26
The loud thunder crashing—the red lightning flashing,27
Are the might of a people resolved to be free.28