Restore me the r?ek where the sno? flake reposee, For still they are sacred to freedom and love. Yet, Caledonia, dear are thy mountabra, Hound their .white suture/rs the' elements war, The' cataracts foam, 'stead of smooth fiowh? tains, I sigh for the valley of dark Loch-ns-gatt. Ah! there my young footings in infancy ?wander'd; My cap was the bonnet, my cloak was the On chieftains long per?h'd my memory ponder'd, As daily I stray'd through the pine-cover'd glade. I sought not my home till the day's dying Gave place to the rays of the bright polar star, For fancy was cheer'd by traditional story , Disclos'd by the natives of dark Loch-na-garr. Shades of the dead! have I not hoard your voitera 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 dale. Round Loch-na-garr, whilst the stormy mist gather, Winter presides in his cold icy ear: Clouds there encircle the forms of my fathers? They dwell 'mid the tempests of dark Loch-na-g?r. Ill-starr'?, though brave, did via/on foreboding, Tell you that fate had forsaken your catme. ? Ah! where you designed to die at Culledon, Victory crown'd not your fall w/th applattse Still were you happy in death'? early slumber. You rest with your clan 'in the caves of Bra�nmr, The pibroch resounds to the piper's hold number, Your deeds on the echoes of dark Loch-ns-gatt. Years have rotI'd on, Loch-na-garr, since I left you, Years * must elapse ere I tread you again, Nature of virdure and flow'rs has bereft you; Yet still ?vou are dearer than Albion's plan. 0,?,?,?Google
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