'Tis said-but few the charge believes Certes that war and woe had been, The youth was chafed, and with disdain Refused to touch his harp again; Said he desired no more renown Than keep those Highland boasters down; His claim withdrawn, the victors twain Repaired to prove their skill again. The song that tuneful Gardyn sung Is still admired by old and young, And long shall be at evening fold, While are sung songs or tales are Of stolen delights began the song, Of love the Carron woods among, told. Of lady borne from Carron side Of jealous lord and doubtful bride, Cut off in manhood's early bloom. Soft rung The harp of Ettrick rung again, Her bard, intent on fairy strain, Sung young Tam Lean of Carterha'. Queen Mary's harp on high that hung, And every tone responsive rung, With gems and gold that dazzling shone, Waked slumbering lyres from every tree At length was borne, by beauteous bride, To woo the airs on Garry side. When full two hundred years had fled, And all the northern bards were dead, That costly harp, of wonderous mould, Defaced of all its gems and gold, With that which Gardyn erst did play, As Mary's hand the victor crowned, And twined the wreath his temples round, |