Derwentwater's Farewell

Farewell to pleasant Dilston Hall,
My father's ancient seat;
A stranger now must call thee his,
Which gars my heart to greet;
Farewell each friendly, well-known face,
My heart has held so dear,
My tenants now must leave their lands
Or hold their lives in fear.

No more along the banks of Tyne
I'll rove in autumn grey,
No more I'll hear at early dawn
The lav'rocks wake the day;
And who shall deck the hawthorn bower,
Where my fond children strayed?
And who, when spring shall bid it flower,
Shall sit beneath the shade?

And fare thee well, George Collingwood,
Since fate has put us down,
If thou and I have lost our lives
Our King has lost his crown;
But when the head that wears the crown
Shall be laid low likemine,
Some honest hearts may then lament
For Radcliffe's fallen line.

Farewell, farewell, my lady dear,
Ill, ill, thou counsel'dst me;
I never more may see the babe
That smiles upon thy knee;
Then fare thee well, brave Widdrington
And Forster, ever true,
Dear Shaftesbury and Errington
Receive my last adieu.

And fare thee well, my bonny grey steed,
That carried me aye so free;
I wish I'd been asleep in my bed
Last time I mounted thee;
The warning bell now bids me cease,
My trouble's nearly o'er,
Yon sun that rises from the sea
Shall rise on me no more.

Albeit that, here in London town
It is my fate to die,
Oh! carry me to Northumberland,
In my father's grave to lie;
There chant my solemn requiem
In Hexham's holy towers,
And let six maids from fair Tynedale
Scatter my grave with flowers.

And when the head that wears the crown
Shall be laid low like mine,
Some honest hearts may then lament
For Radcliffe's fallen line;
Farewell to pleasant Dilston Hall,
My father's ancient seat;
A stranger now must call thee his,
Which gars my heart to greet.

Sir James Radcliffe, Bt., third Earl of Derwentwater, was beheaded, February 24, 1716, for his part in the 1715 rising; he was only 27 years old.