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The Last of the StuartsThe last of the Stuarts has sunk in the grave,And their name and their lineage is gone; And the land of the stranger a resting place gave To him that was heir to a throne. But the noon of their glory was soon overspread, And the sun he grew dark with dismay; And the clouds of misfortune hung over their head, Till their sceptre had vanished away. Last of the Stewarts! O more for their cause shall the trumpet be blown, Nor their followers crowd to the field; Their hopes were all wreck'd when Culloden was won, And the fate of their destiny seal'd. Cold, is that heart which could stand o'er his grave, Nor think of their fate with a sigh, That the glory of kings, like a wreck from the wave, Here lone and deserted must lie. Last of the Stuarts! |