Written upon the Battle of Culloden
 
Mourn, hapless Caledonia, mourn,
Thy banish'd peace, thy laurels torn!
Thy sons, for valour long renown'd,
Lie slaughter'd on their native ground!
Thy hospitable roofs no more
Invite the stranger to the door;
In smoaky ruins sunk they lie,
The monuments of cruelty!
 
Oh baneful cause! oh fatal morn!
Accurs'd to ages yet unborn!
The sons against their fathers stood;
The parent shed his children's blood!
Yet, when the rage of battle ceas'd,
The victor's soul was not appeas'd:
The naked and forlorn must feel
Devouring flames, and murd'ring steel!
 
While the warm blood bedews my veins,
And unimpair'd remembrance reigns,
Resentment of my Country's fate
Within my filial breast shall beat:
And, spite of her insulting foe,
My sympathizing verse shall flow;
"Mourn, hapless Caledonia, mourn
"Thy banish'd peace, thy laurels torn!"