I ne'er can cease my praise of thee!
Here hill and strath and briny sea;
There streams which from the mountains glide,
Where pearls abound and otters hide.
Hurrah, &c. &c.
High is thy shore against the storm,
Yet lined with sheltered coves and warm;
Whilst shell-fish fill each rocky hole
Where never ocean's waves can roll.
Hurrah, &c. &c.
And he who gazes in the deep
May see the silvery salmon sweep,
With graceful curve and stately turn,
To seek his food below the burn.
Hurrah, &c. &c.
Or we can haste to Loch-nan-Dail,
Where the brown trout will never fail;
Whilst flocks of duck and grey goose soar
From marshy haunts upon its shore.
Hurrah, &c. &c.
The shaggy herd each meadow feeds,
The snipe lies close within the reeds;
Each step the heather-cock may rouse,
Loud warning his less wary spouse.
Hurrah, &c. &c.
Coille Aigeascaig,—shade from the heat!
Here is the blackcock's sure retreat;
Yonder they crow at early day,
With bent bills crooning forth their lay.
Hurrah, &c. &c.
Wood pigeon, mavis, and night jar,
Make music sweet both near and far;
Full joyously the redbreasts call,
Perched on the rock high o'er them all.
Hurrah, &c. &c.
"Coo, coo," the cuckoo cries aloft,
The chaffinch sings in tones more soft,
The fieldfare, titlark, and the wren
All swell the chorus of thy glen.
Hurrah, &c. &c.
No symphony can rival thine;
Nor elsewhere do more clearly shine
The works of God in nature's face,
Harmonious in every place.
Hurrah, &c. &c.
Would that we two were wandering now
Where these wild woods could hear our vow!
Ne'er could we roam midst scenes more grand
Than in this rugged northern land!
Hurrah, &c. &c.