I would I were a careless child,
\nStill dwelling in my Highland cave,
\nOr roaming through the dusky wild,
\nOr bounding o’er the dark blue wave;
\nThe cumbrous pomp of Saxon pride
\nAccords not with the freeborn soul,
\nWhich loves the mountain’s craggy side,
\nAnd seeks the rocks where billows roll.<\/p>\n
Fortune! take back these cultured lands,
\nTake back this name of splendid sound!
\nI hate the touch of servile hands,
\nI hate the slaves that cringe around.
\nPlace me among the rocks I love,
\nWhich sound to Ocean’s wildest roar;
\nI ask but this – again to rove
\nThrough scenes my youth hath known before.
\nFew are my years, and yet I feel
\nThe world was ne’er designed for me:
\nAh! why do dark’ning shades conceal
\nThe hour when man must cease to be?
\nOnce I beheld a splendid dream,
\nA visionary scene of bliss:
\nTruth! – wherefore did thy hated beam
\nAwake me to a world like this?<\/p>\n
I loves – but those I love are gone;
\nHad friends – my early friends are fled:
\nHow cheerless feels the heart alone,
\nWhen all its former hopes are dead!
\nThough gay companions o’er the bowl
\nDispel awhile the sense of ill’
\nThough pleasure stirs the maddening soul,
\nThe heart – the heart – is lonely still.<\/p>\n
How dull! to hear the voice of those
\nWhom rank or chance, whom wealth or power,
\nHave made, though neither friends nor foes,
\nAssociates of the festive hour.
\nGive me again a faithful few,
\nIn years and feelings still the same,
\nAnd I will fly the midnight crew,
\nWhere boist’rous joy is but a name.<\/p>\n
And woman, lovely woman! thou,
\nMy hope, my comforter, my all!
\nHow cold must be my bosom now,
\nWhen e’en thy smiles begin to pall!
\nWithout a sigh would I resign
\nThis busy scene of splendid woe,
\nTo make that calm contentment mine,
\nWhich virtue know, or seems to know.<\/p>\n
Fain would I fly the haunts of men –
\nI seek to shun, not hate mankind;
\nMy breast requires the sullen glen,
\nWhose gloom may suit a darken’d mind.
\nOh! that to me the wings were given
\nWhich bear the turtle to her nest!
\nThen would I cleave the vault of heaven,
\nTo flee away, and be at rest.<\/p>\n