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!