The Last Of The Stuarts

The last of the Stuarts has sunk in the grave
And their name and their lineage is gone
And the land of the stranger a resting place gave
To him that was heir to a throne
To him that was heir to a throne.

But the noon of their glory was soon overspread
And he sun he grew dark with dismay
And the clouds of misfortune hung over their head
Till their sceptre had vanished away
Till their sceptre had vanished away.

O more for their cause shall the trumpet be blown
Nor their followers crowd to the field
Their hopes were all wreck'd when
Culloden was won
And the fate of their destiny seal'd
And the fate of their destiny seal'd.

Cold, is that heart which could stand o'er his grave
Nor think of their fate with a sigh
That the glory of kings, like a wreck from the wave
Here lone and deserted must lie
Here lone and deserted must lie.