Thee, Caledonia! thy wild heaths among, Fam’d for the martial deed, the heaven-taught song, To thee I turn with swimming eyes; Where is that soul of Freedom fled? Immingled with the mighty dead, Beneath that hallow’d turf where Wallace lies Hear it not, Wallace! in thy bed of death. Ye babbling winds! in silence sweep, Disturb not ye the hero’s sleep, Nor give the coward secret breath! Is this the ancient Caledonian form, Firm as the rock, resistless as the storm? Show me that eye which shot immortal hate, Blasting the despot’s proudest bearing; Show me that arm which, nerv’d with thundering fate, Crush’d Usurpation’s boldest daring!— Dark-quench’d as yonder sinking star, No more that glance lightens afar; That palsied arm no more whirls on the waste of war. Inscription To Miss Graham Of Fintry Here, where the Scottish Muse immortal lives, In sacred strains and tuneful numbers joined, Accept the gift; though humble he who gives, Rich is the tribute of the grateful mind. So may no ruffian-feeling in my breast, Discordant, jar thy bosom-chords among; But Peace attune thy gentle soul to rest, Or Love, ecstatic, wake his seraph song, Or Pity’s notes, in luxury of tears, As modest Want the tale of woe reveals; While conscious Virtue all the strains endears, And heaven-born Piety her sanction seals. On The Seas And Far Away Tune—“O’er the hills and far away.” How can my poor heart be glad, When absent from my sailor lad; How can I the thought forego— He’s on the seas to meet the foe? Let me wander, let me rove, Still my heart is with my love; Nightly dreams, and thoughts by day, Are with him that’s far away. Chorus.—On the seas and far away, On stormy seas and far away; Nightly dreams and thoughts by day, Are aye with him that’s far away. When in summer noon I faint, As weary flocks around me pant, Haply in this scorching sun, My sailor’s thund’ring at his gun; Bullets, spare my only joy! Bullets, spare my darling boy! Fate, do with me what you may, Spare but him that’s far away, On the seas and far away, On stormy seas and far away; Fate, do with me what you may, Spare but him that’s far away. At the starless, midnight hour When Winter rules with boundless power, As the storms the forests tear, And thunders rend the howling air, Listening to the doubling roar, Surging on the rocky shore, All I can—I weep and pray For his weal that’s far away, On the seas and far away, On stormy seas and far away; All I can—I weep and pray, For his weal that’s far away.