Air - McIntosh's Lament.'
Fell he on the field of fame,
Glory resting on his name?
O'er his young and dauntless breast
Does the sculptur'd marble rest?
Sad and silent passing by,
Ask not where his ashes lie;
Blooming gay, in manly prime,
Lowly laid before his time.

Smiling on the parent knee,
Beaming hope was linked with thee;
Grown at last her pride and boast,
Hope itself in joy was lost.
Where his youthful footsteps roved,
Thro' the woodland bowers he loved;
Once her dear delight and care-
Mother, say what now they are.

Honour's laws have dealt the blow;
Fear of man has laid him low;
Bound by human maxims vile,
Braving highest Heaven the while.
Fear of man has brought the snare;
Deathless souls entangled there,
Scorning mandates from on high,
Rush into eternity.

Christian hope, tho' high she spring,
Here must stoop the soaring wing;
Murderous laws, which men approve,
Pass not Heaven's courts of love!
O! might dark oblivion's power,
Shadow o'er this anguished hour,
And aid the wretched hope forlorn,
To forget he e'er was born!