Thy only child is now no more.

Long ere the lark his matin sung,

Clad in his hunting garb of green,

The brave, the noble, and the young,

The Boy of Egremont was seen!

Who in his fair form could not trace,

The youth was born of high degree;

He was the last of Duncan's race,

The only hope of Romillé.

In his bright eye the youthful fire