The scattered stones of many homes have witnessed our despair,
And every stone's a monument to cruel John Adair.
"Where are the hapless people, doomed by John Adair's decree?
Some linger in the drear poor-house--some are beyond the sea;
One died behind the cold ditch--back beneath the open sky,
And every star in heaven was a witness from on high.
None dared to ope a friendly door, or lift a neighbor's latch,
Or shelter by a warm hearthstone beneath the homely thatch.
"Beside the lake in sweet Glenveigh, his tall white castle stands,
With battlement and tower high, fresh from the mason's hands;
It's built of ruined hearth stones, its cement is bitter tears,
It's a monument of infamy to all the future years,
He is written childless, for of his blood no heir
Shall inherit land or lordship from cruel John Adair.
"His cognizance the bloody hand has a wild meaning now,
It is pointing up for vengeance to Cain-like mark his brow,
It speaks of frantic hands that clasped the side posts of the door;
Pale lips that kissed the threshold they would cross, oh, never more.
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