Reflections of a Jacobite.

Mourn, mourn, ye spirits of the brave, for glories passed away;
Mourn that the sceptre of your king should own a stranger's sway;
Mourn that the crown, which graced his brow by sovereign right divine,
Should e'er in regal mockery adorn an upstart line.
But mourn the more that those, who boast your blood within their veins,
To such reproaches should submit while any drop remains,
That those, whose names are heroes' names, transmitted from the free,
The subjects of a foreign lord, in cherished chains should be.
Oh! for the days when life was naught except for what it prized! -
When virtue, honour, truth, and right inspired and advised! -
When men such loyalty and love to king and country bore! -
The grand old days of chivalry! - alas! they are no more!