[A composite volume : containing The ballads and songs of Ayrshire ...

!
;
;—
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THE liADT S DREAM.
By awful dreams, of blood and death
Of war and carnage deep.
Culloden's blood-besprinlded moor
Rushed fearful on her sight.
And she saw the sword of her gallant lord
Subdued by the foeman's might.
Again she dreamed, and on her ear
A death-knell sadly tolled ;
And lo !
upon the chamber floor
A head all bloody rolled
" 'T is he ! 't is he !" she wildly cried
" But why that clotted hair
And why those glazed and death-Uke eyes,
That once so radiant were
" Speak ! speak ! my loved, my dearest lord.
Nor keep me thus in pine
Say, why so mangled and alone
Has dark defeat been thine "
But when her lips these words had breathed.
The ghastly form was gone
And through the tower a doleful voice
Thus spoke with solemn tone.
'^ Rise, hapless lady, from thy couch.
Morn dawns on flower and tree ;
And its beams so fair, and its balmy air.
No gladness bring to thee.
*•'
For Cumberland, with sword and brand,
Hath triumphed o'er the brave ;
And on bleak Culloden's bloody moor
The good have found a grave.
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