GILDEROY
.
THE
last
,
the
fatal
hour
is
come
That
bears
my
love
from
me
;
I
bear
the
dead
note
of
the
drum
,
I
mark
the
gallows
tree
!
The
bell
has
toll'd
;
it
shakes
my
heart
;
The
trumpet
speaks
thy
name
;
And
must
my
Gilderoy
depart
To
bear
a
death
of
shame
!
No
bosom
trembles
for
thy
doom
;
No
mourner
wipes
a
tear
;
The
gallows'
foot
is
all
thy
tomb
,
The
sledge
is
all
thy
bier
!
Oh
,
Gilderoy
!
bethought
we
then
So
soon
,
so
sad
,
to
part
,
When
first
in
Roslin's
lovely
glen
You
triumph'd
o'er
my
heart
!
Your
locks
they
glitter'd
to
the
sheen
,
Your
hunter
garb
was
trim
;
And
graceful
was
the
ribbon
green
That
bound
your
manly
limb
!
Ah
!
little
thought
I
to
deplore
These
limbs
in
fetters
bound
;
Or
hear
,
upon
thy
scaffold
floor
,
The
midnight
hammer
sound
.
Ye
cruel
,
cruel
,
that
combin'd
The
guiltless
to
pursue
;
My
Guilderoy
was
ever
kind
,
He
could
not
injure
you
!
A
long
adieu
!
but
where
shall
fly
Thy
widow
all
forlorn
;
When
every
mean
and
cruel
eye
Regards
my
woe
with
scorn
.
Yes
!
they
will
mock
thy
widow's
tears
,
And
hate
thine
orphan
boy
:
Alas
!
his
infant
beauty
wears
The
form
of
Gilderoy
!
Then
will
I
seek
the
dreary
mound
,
Where
sleeps
thy
mouldering
clay
;
And
weep
and
linger
on
the
ground
,
And
sigh
my
heart
away
!