Afar the illustrious Exile roams, Whom kingdoms on this day should hail; Aninmate in the casual shed, On transient pity's bounty fed, Haunted bybusy memory's bitter tale! Beasts of the forest have their savage homes, But He, who should imperial purple wear, Owns not the lapof earth where rests his royal head! His wretched refuge,
Revered defender of beauteous Stuart, Of Stuart, a name once respected; A name, which to love was the mark of a true heart, But now 'tis despis'd and neglected. Tho' something like moisture conglobes in my eye, Let noone misdeem me disloyal; A poor friendless wand'rer may well claim a sigh, Still more if that
A Rose-bud bymy early walk, Adown a corn-enclosed bawk, Sae gently bent its thorny stalk, All on a dewy morning. Eretwice the shades o' dawn are fled, In a'its crimson glory spread, And drooping rich the dewy head, It scents the early morning. Within the bush her covert nest A little linnet fondly prest; The