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!