Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, AULD SCOTLAND AT THE ABBEY CRAIG IN NOVEMBER, 1864, by JANET HAMILTON


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

AULD SCOTLAND AT THE ABBEY CRAIG IN NOVEMBER, 1864, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: As white as a ghaist, wi' a tear in her e'e
Last Line: "wi' the will there's a way, wi' the means there's a power."
Alternate Author Name(s): Hamilton, Janet Thompson
Subject(s): Grief; Scotland; Sorrow; Sadness


As white as a ghaist, wi' a tear in her e'e,
Her grey hair doon-hingin' oot-ower her e'ebree,
Gangs auld Mither Scotlan', sair mournin' the shame
That's lyin' e'en noo on her bairns an' her name.

That half-bigget touir they hae raised on the height
O' the auld Craig at Stirlin' to Wallace the wight—
The day it was foundit her auld lyart pow
Fu' heich she was haudin'; it's laigh eneuch now.

She daurna leuk up she's sae doon i' the mouth:
Weel kens she the bodies that dwall in the South,
An' specially the Cockneys, are lauchin' ilk ane
At her an' her sticket big humplock o' stane.

The win's o' November blaw sleety an' chill,
But she's aff through the heather awa' to the hill;
Like a ghaist she gangs wannerin' an' mournin' alane,
An' the auld Abbey echoes her sorrowfu' mane:

"O shade o' my Wallace! the sainted, the blest,
Frae the mansions abune, frae thy bricht place o' rest,
Dost see thy ain Scotlan' in sorrow and shame,
That her sons hae neglected to nourish thy fame?

The Scots are lang gane that 'wi' Wallace hae bled,'
The Scots that the Bruce aft to victory led;
They fell, they are sleepin' on Fame's gory bed,
And their name still is ours, but their spirit is fled!"

She cried, and the tear-draps were dried on her cheeks,
"Oh, listen, my bairns (it's your mither that speaks);
Bring gowd in your gowpens to big up the touir:
Wi' the will there's a way, wi' the means there's a power."





Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...
Home: PoetryExplorer.net