farewell song to the banks of ayr
tune—“roslin castle.”
“i composed this song as i conveyed my chest so far on my road to greenock, where i was to embark in a few days for jamaica. i meant it as my farewell dirge to my native land.”—r. b.
the gloomy night is gath'ring fast,
loud roars the wild, inconstant blast,
yon murky cloud is foul with rain,
i see it driving o'er the plain;
the hunter now has left the moor.
the scatt'red coveys meet secure;
while here i wander, prest with care,
along the lonely banks of ayr.
the autumn mourns her rip'ning corn
by early winter's ravage torn;
across her placid, azure sky,
she sees the scowling tempest fly:
chill runs my blood to hear it rave;
i think upon the stormy wave,
where many a danger i must dare,
far from the bonie banks of ayr.
'tis not the surging billow's roar,
'tis not that fatal, deadly shore;
tho' death in ev'ry shape appear,
the wretched have no more to fear:
but round my heart the ties are bound,
that heart transpierc'd with many a wound;
these bleed afresh, those ties i tear,
to leave the bonie banks of ayr.
farewell, old coila's hills and dales,
her healthy moors and winding vales;
the scenes where wretched fancy roves,
pursuing past, unhappy loves!
farewell, my friends! farewell, my foes!
my peace with these, my love with those:
the bursting tears my heart declare—
farewell, the bonie banks of ayr!