Można porównać z oryginałem: "The Lay of the Last Minstrel" by Sir Walter Scott Introduction
The way was long, the wind was cold, The Minstrel was infirm and old; His wither'd cheek, and tresses gray, Seem'd to have known a better day; The harp, his sole remaining joy, Was carried by an orphan boy. The last of all the Bards was he, Who sung of Border chivalry; For, welladay! their date was fled, His tuneful brethren all were dead; And he, neglected and oppress'd, Wish'd to be with them, and at rest. No more on prancing palfrey borne, He caroll'd, light as lark at morn; No longer courted and caress'd, High placed in hall, a welcome guest, He pour'd, to lord and lady gay, The unpremeditated lay: Old times were changed, old manners gone; A stranger filled the Stuarts' throne; The bigots of the iron time Had call'd hs harmless art a crime. A wandering Harper, scorn'd and poor, He begg'd his bread from door to door. And timed, to please a peasant's ear, The harp, a king had loved to hear.
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