Massacre of Glencoe (1824)/The Lily of St. Leonards
THE LILY OF ST LEONARDS
Have you seen in yonder glen?
Far frae the haunts or tracts of men,
Have you seen its fairest gem—
The Lily of St Leonards?
Lovely, sporting, young and gay,
How she trips her rugged way,
Glinting like the sunshine ray,
O'er meadows and o’er crags.
Have you seen her sylph-like form,
Like the rainbow in the storm,
Or the gliding of the morn.
On hill or mountain brow?
Have you seen her artless dance,
Like the sparking moonlight glance,
That twitters in a fairy trance
O’er fields thick clad wi’ snow?
Have you heard her morning sang
Echoing woods and caves amang.
Or answer'd by the dashing dang
Of spouts and water driven?
Have you heard her evening prayer,
When every thing was calm and fair,
Breathing purer than the air
That wafted it to heaven?
Have you tried her angel mind,
What, oh what there could you find
But generous passions strong and kind,
And simple purity?
Simple, alas!, untaught of ill,
She yielded to a lover’s will,
He pluck’d the lily from the hill,
To wither and to die,
Forgive ye whom our errors fin',
She knew not what it was to sin,
Her graces all were made to win,
But none for to deny.
Forgive, for she has been forgiven,—
She’s paid the debt she owed to heaven,
And does not malice ’gainst the livin'
Turn mercy when they die?
FINIS.