"A favourite Scotch song as sung at Vauxhall", London, c.1785. There was very little in subject or origin to define this song as Scottish, except for the use of Scotch snaps (or, more appropriately for this composer, Lombard rhythms).

Lyrics: George Keate

From these dread walls, this melancholy tower,
Doomed the sad victim of relentless power,
Where ruin sits in gloomy pomp arrayed,
And circling horrors spread their mournful shade,
I send the tribute of a shortening life,
The last memorial of a faithful wife.
For every hope on this side heaven is fled,
And death's pale banner waves around my head.
It yet perchance my cheer my lord to know
That Suffolk's daughter sinks not with her woe:
Beneath its weight I feel myself resigned;
Tho' strong its pressure, stronger still my mind.
This duty paid to thee, each care is o'er,
Nor my hard fortune shall distress me more.