LACHIN Y GAIR.

66

Drawn by C. Stanfield, A.R.A. from a Sketch by the Rev. J. D. Glennie.

Away, ye gay landscapes, ye gardens of roses!

In let the minions of luxury rove;

you

Restore me the rocks, where the snow-flake reposes,

Though still they are sacred to freedom and love: Yet, Caledonia, beloved are thy mountains,

Round their white summits though elements war; Though cataracts foam 'stead of smooth-flowing fountains, I sigh for the valley of dark Loch na Garr.

"Ah! there my young footsteps in infancy wander'd;
My cap was the bonnet, my cloak was the plaid;
On chieftains long perish'd my memory ponder'd,
As daily I strode through the pine-cover'd glade:
I sought not my home till the day's dying glory
Gave place to the rays of the bright polar star;
For fancy was cheered by traditional story,

Disclosed by the natives of dark Loch na Garr.

"Shades of the dead! have I not heard your voices Rise on the night-rolling breath of the gale?

Surely the soul of the hero rejoices,

And rides on the wind o'er his own Highland vale.

B