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THE gloomy night is gath’ring faft,
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, preft 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 suns my blood to hear it rave,
I think upon the stormy wave,
Where many a danger I must dare,
Far from the bonnie 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 bonnie banks of Ayr.
Farewell, old Coila's bills and dales,
Her heathy 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 bonnie banks of Ayr!
thee, Eliza, I must go, And from my native shore : The cruel fates between us throw
A boundless ocean's roar:
But boundless oceans, roaring wide,
Between my Love and me,
They never, never can divide
My heart and soul from thee:
Farewell, farewell, Eliza dear,
The maid that I adore !
A boding voice is in mine ear,
We part to meet no more!
But the last throb that leaves my heart,
While death stands victor by,
That throb, Eliza, is thy part,
And thine that latest figh!