But there's a youth, a witless youth,
That fills the place where she should be;
We'll send him o'er to his native shore,
And bring our ain sweet Albany.
Alas the day, and woe the day,
A false usurper wan the gree,
Who now commands the towers and lands--
The royal right of Albany.
We'll daily pray, we'll nightly pray,
On bended knees most fervently,
The time may come, with pipe an' drum
We'll welcome hame fair Albany.
[Footnote 1: Natural daughter of Prince Charles Edward.]
On Scaring Some Water-Fowl In Loch-Turit
A wild scene among the Hills of Oughtertyre.
"This was the production of a solitary forenoon's walk from Oughtertyre
House. I lived there, the guest of Sir William Murray, for two or three
weeks, and was much flattered by my hospitable reception. What a pity that
the mere emotions of gratitude are so impotent in this world. 'Tis lucky
that, as we are told, they will be of some avail in the world to come."
--R.B., Glenriddell MSS.
Why, ye tenants of the lake,
For me your wat'ry haunt forsake?
Tell me, fellow-creatures, why
At my presence thus you fly?
Why disturb your social joys,
Parent, filial, kindred ties?--
Common friend to you and me,
yature's gifts to all are free:
Peaceful keep your dimpling wave,
Busy feed, or wanton lave;
Or, beneath the sheltering rock,
Bide the surging billow's shock.
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