Poem by Robert Burns

Fragment of an Ode to the Memory of Prince Charles Edward Stuart

    FALSE flatterer, Hope, away!
  Nor think to lure us as in days of yore;
    We solemnise this sorrowing natal-day
  To prove our loyal truth; we can no more;
    And owning Heaven’s mysterious sway,
      Submissive low adore.

    Ye honour’d mighty dead!
  Who nobly perish’d in the glorious cause,
  Your king, your country, and her laws!
    From great Dundee who smiling victory led,
  And fell a martyr in her arms
  (What breast of northern ice but warms?)
    To bold Balmerino’s undying name,
  Whose soul of fire, lighted at heaven’s high flame,
Deserves the proudest wreath departed heroes claim.

  Nor unavenged your fate shall be,
    It only lags the fatal hour;
  Your blood shall with incessant cry
    Awake at last th’ unsparing power;
  As from the cliff with thundering course,
  The snowy ruin smokes along,
  With doubling speed and gathering force,
  Till deep it crashing whelms the cottage in the vale!
    So Vengeance’ arm ensanguined, strong,
  Shall with resistless might assail,
    Usurping Brunswick’s pride shall lay,
And Stewart’s wrongs, and yours, with tenfold weight repay.

1. I Gaed a Waefu' Gate Yestreen
2. Blythe Was She
3. Farewell to Ballochmyle
4. Stay My Charmer
5. On a Bank of Flowers

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