| |
| FAIR hill that sittest crowned serene | |
| Above thy thickset beechen bower, | |
| What sights from out that crest of green, | |
| That rugged steep, that ruined tower, | |
| In the old time hast thou not seen? | 5 |
| |
| The long blue loch in summer pride | |
| Now breaks its wave against the quay, | |
| And whitens round the peaceful side | |
| Of yawl and yacht, and bears to sea | |
| The steam-ships against wind and tide. | 10 |
| |
| But thou hast seen the foray planned, | |
| And moonlight upon dirk and shield | |
| In curvéd galleys grimly manned, | |
| And heard the shrill-voiced mountains yield | |
| The war-note from the farther strand. | 15 |
| |
| Around thy base the fertile leas | |
| On Airey’s banks are thick with kine, | |
| Secure beneath the stately trees | |
| In avenue and arch and line | |
| Whose voice is but the voice of bees. | 20 |
| |
| And there the clans for battle dight | |
| Held wassail deep, and raised the cry | |
| When those upon thy sentried height | |
| Proclaimed the plaided foemen nigh, | |
| And flashed thy beacon through the night. | 25 |
| |
| Adown Ben Büi’s clefts they come, | |
| Friends to the Stuart and red Montrose, | |
| Their slogan mute, their pibroch dumb; | |
| Glen Shirer gives its thickets close, | |
| And all the snow-crowned heights are numb | 30 |
| |
| That, peak by peak, would each be lord | |
| Around the Dhuloch’s icy marge: | |
| In vain; for thanks to thee the ford | |
| Is banked by many a gleaming targe;— | |
| The Campbells waiting with the sword! | 35 |
| |
