But who is he that yet a dearer land
Remembers over hills and far away?
Green Albin![30] what though he no more survey
Thy ships at anchor on the quiet shore,
Thy pellochs[31] rolling from the mountain bay,
Thy lone sepulchral cairn upon the moor,
And distant isles that hear the loud Corbrechtan roar![32]
VI.
Alas! poor Caledonia’s mountaineer,
That want’s stern edict e’er, and feudal grief,