Song

(W HICH THE Bard MADE )

'T WAS a tour of hard fortune,
Both luckless and harmful to me,
That which brought me from home
Across o'er the pass yesterday.
Though by chance I got news —
The truth a lie I had rather —
With approval of clergy,
My sweetheart's to marry another.

Air failirinn, illirinn, uillirinn,
O I weep and I weep.
'Tis unmatched hard fate
In the net of thy love did me keep.

I'll ascend not again
To the clough, or the top of the ards,
Where the barking deer linger,
And freshly arise, snorting herds;
My mind has forgotten
The song of the swan on the river,
A gun I'll not carry,
A dog I'll not welcome forever.

To the dell I'll not go
Where is heard the cuckoo's voice I love,
And the lay of the thrush.
On the sprays of the big trees above;
Blithe young men will be
A-courting their sweethearts so brave,
And I, sick at heart,
Till I sleep all forlorn in the grave.

When the first time I saw
One of thy looks, thy wisdom and fame,
My love lasting grew,
And 'tis ever an increasing flame.
In folly I lo'ed thee,
With hope, and a longing sublime,
That thou would be willing,
With waiting, to wed me in time.

Though friends mourn my sorrow,
My grief and distress while in pain,
My cure is not easy,
No help from a leech I obtain;
And my anguish of heart,
In the end me causes such scaith,
Since, Margaret, thou left me,
That hard is my rescue from death.

Methinks 'twas not wisdom
On my part that I fell in love
With a maiden that left me,
And simple me slighted did prove;
Were I rightly to think on't,
That flame would wear out to an en'.
I should quench it complete,
She could ne'er me belittle again.

If thou'st gotten thy choice
Of the men of the world entire,
Thine own friends well know
If thou put to good use thy desire —
In flirting and courting
A tuner of drones all uncouth,
And a sheepskin, withal,
A-catching the breath from his mouth.

Although I've no learning,
No money, no honour, no store,
No harp, and no chanter,
I'll live in ill-humour no more:
Since I've now thought it o'er,
I'll bestir me, I'll no more repine;
For I'll be in Gairloch,
And thou in Kintail of the kine.
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