Song Xxi. Kate Poem by Robert Anderson

`Stranger, if gentle pity swells thy breast,
`Let Kate thy pity move--ah! well--a--day!
`And turn not from a wand'rer sore opprest,
`Sighing for her love, slain far away.'

`Who was thy love, O fair but hapless maid,
`For whom I see thee weep?--ah! well--a--day!
`And why at eve mourn'st thou in this cold shade,
`For him who sound doth sleep far, far away?'

`Around yon cottage long young Henry toil'd;
`I heard his vows of truth--ah! well--a--day!
`Around yon cottage Peace and Pleasure smil'd,
`And maidens lov'd the youth, slain far away.'

`Let Hope, sweet maid! that cheers the path of all,
`To thee her comfort give--ah! well--a--day!
`Still some are doom'd to stand, tho' thousands fall,
`And Henry yet may live, far, far away.'

`Ah, no! by war forc'd from his promis'd bride,
`'Twas here he sigh'd adieu--ah! well--a--day!
`And soon the tidings came, that Henry died,
`To love and honour true, far, far away.'

`To love and honour true!--a friend behold!
`Death only shall us part--ah! well--a--day!
`For thee I fought and bled, brav'd heat and cold--
`Still constant was this heart, tho' far away.'

`Art thou my love?--it must not, cannot be!
`My Henry once so fair!--ah! well--a--day!'
Pale turn'd her cheek--to earth's cold lap sunk she
Now Henry in despair mourns far away.