And we in dreams behold the Hebrides:
Fair these broad meads, etc.
We ne’er shall tread the fancy-haunted valley,
Where ’tween the dark hills creeps the small clear stream,
In arms around the patriarch banner rally,
Nor see the moon on royal tombstones gleam:
Fair these broad meads, etc.
When the bold kindred, in the time long vanish’d,
Conquered the soil and fortified the keep,—
No seer foretold the children would be banish’d,