Page:The Universal Songster and Museum of Mirth.djvu/67

 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

�