Chapter CXLIV: My Ain Countrie

Oh! why left I my hame?
Why did I cross the deep?
Oh! why left I the land
Where my forefathers sleep?
I sigh for Scotia’s shore,
And I gaze across the sea,
But I canna get a blink
O’ my ain countrie.

The palm-tree waveth high,
And fair the myrtle springs;
And to the Indian maid
The bulbul sweetly sings.
But I dinna see the broom,
Wi’ its tassels on the lea;
Nor hear the linties’ sang
O’ my ain countrie.

Oh! here no Sabbath bell
Awakes the Sabbath morn,
Nor sang of reapers heard
Amang the yellow corn;
For the tyrant’s voice is here,
And the wail o’ slaverie;
But the sun o’ freedom shines
In my ain countrie.

There’s a hope for every woe,
And a balm for every pain;
But the first joys of our heart
Come never back again.
There’s a track upon the deep,
And a path across the sea;
But for me there’s nae return
To my ain countrie.

_Robert Gilfillan._

STEVENSON