The Modern Scottish Minstrel, Volume 1
“ ORAN NA H-AOIS, THE SONG OF AGE. Should my numbers essay to enliven a lay, The notes would betray the languor of woe; My heart is o'erthrown, like the rush of the stone That, unfix'd from its throne, seeks the valley below. The veteran of war, that knows not to spare, And offers us ne'er the respite of peace, Resistless comes on, and we yield with a groan, For under the sun is no hope of release. ”
