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!