1791
ment of mary, queen of scots, on the approach of spring
now nature hangs her mantle green
on every blooming tree,
and spreads her sheets o' daisies white
out o'er the grassy lea;
now phoebus cheers the crystal streams,
and gds the azure skies;
but nought gd the weary wight
that fast in durance lies.
now verocks wake the merry morn
aloft on dewy wing;
the merle, in his noontide bow'r,
makes woodnd ech;
the mavis wild wi' mony a note,
sings drowsy day to rest:
in love and freedom they rejoice,
wi' care nor thrall opprest.
now blooms the lily by the bank,
the primrose down the brae;
the hawthorn's budding in the glen,
and milk-white is the se:
the mea hind in fair sd
may rove their sweets amang;
but i, the queen of a' sd,
maun lie in prison strang.
i was the queen o' bonie france,
where happy i hae been;
fu' lightly raise i in the morn,
as blythe y down at e'en:
and i'm the sov&#n of sd,
and mony a traitor there;
yet here i lie in fn bands,
and never-ending care.
but as for thee, thou false woman,
my sister and my fae,
grim vengea shall whet a sword
that thro' thy soul shall gae;
the weeping blood in woman's breast
was never known to thee;
nor th' balm that draps on wounds of woe
frae woman's pitying e'e.
my son! my son! may kiars
upon thy fortune shine;
and may those pleasures gild thy reign,
that ne'er wad blink on mine!
god keep thee frae thy mother's faes,
or turn their hearts to thee:
and where thou meet'st thy mother's friend,
remember him for me!
o! soon, to me, may summer suns
nae mair light up the morn!
nae mair to me the autumn winds
wave o'er the yellow ?
and, in the narrow house of death,
let winter round me rave;
and the flow'rs that deck the spring,
bloom on my peaceful grave!