Song. the Willow of the Dee

The sun descendin gthro' the sky, Had warn'd the tuneful choir to rest: The star of eve unfolding high, In glitt'ring splendor grac'd the west When, all despairing and forlorn, A beauteous maid I chanc'd to see, In wildest notes she seem'd to mourn, Beside the willow of the Dee.

Ah! Jemmy, why—she fondly cry'd, From these lone arms do you delay; And fear not I shall angry chide, With tears your long and ling'ring stay; With glory's laurel to be crown'd, Has stole your fickle heart from me; And I alone am weeping found, Beside the willow of the Dee.

I vainly hop'd a swift return, When you to battle glowing went; But now I fear to view your urn, To sorrowing love and friendship sent: Then shall these roses lose their bloom, To death's cold hand I soon shall flee; And pitying love shall mark my tomb, Beside the willow of the Dee.