Over yon hills and yon lofty mountain,
Where the trees are clad with snow;
And down by yon murm’ring crystal fountain,
Where the silver streams do flow;
There fair Flora sat, complaining
For the absence of our King,
Crying, ‘Charlie, lovely Charlie!
When shall we two meet again?’
At this period, the unhappy Charles Edward was neither lovely nor loveable. His ballad poet, above, has paraphrased, or parodied, a popular song, ‘Over Hills and high Mountains,’—but so ill, with excess or lack of feet, indifferently, as to serve the measure with the arbitrary despotism with which the Stuarts themselves would have visited Church and Constitution.
JACOBITE JOHNSON.