with critical observations and biographical notices, by Robert Burns

82
KENNETH.
I weird, I weird, hard-hearted lord,
Thy fa' shall soon be seen
Proud was the lily of the morn,
The cald frost nipt or een :
Thou leughst in scorn when puir men weep'd.
And strack the lowly down
Sae sail nae widow weep for thine.
When a' their joys are flown.
This night ye drink the sparkly wine
I redd you drink your fill
;
The morrow's sun shall drink your bluid,
Afore he reach the hill.
I see the snaw-maned horses ride.
Their glitt'ring swords they draw ;
Their swords that shall nae glitter lang,
Till Kenneth's pride shall fa'.
The black Dog youl'd ;
Nae man but I could see
;
he saw the sight
;
;