Of glorious freedom, rough and wild,
How have I wept o'er all thy ills,
How blest thy Caledonian hills!
How almost worshipp'd in my dreams
Thy mountain haunts,--thy classic streams!
How burnt with hopeless, aimless fire,
To mark thy giant strength aspire
In patriot themes! and tun'd the while
Thy "_Bonny Doon_," or "_Balloch Mile_."
Spirit of BURNS! accept the tear
That rapture gives thy mem'ry here
On the bleak mountain top. Here thou
Thyself had rais'd the gallant brow
Of conscious intellect, to twine
Th'imperishable verse of thine,
That charm'st the world. Or can it be,
That scenes like these were nought to thee?
That Scottish hills so far excel,
That so deep sinks the Scottish dell,
That boasted PEN-Y-VALE had been[1],
For thy loud northern lyre too mean;
[Footnote 1: The respective heights of these mountains above the mouth of
the Gavany, was taken barometrically by General Roy.
Feet
The summit of the Sugar-Loaf..........1852
Of the Blorenge.......................1720
Of the Skyrid.........................1498]
Broad-shoulder'd BLORENGE a mere knoll,
And SKYRID, let him smile or scowl,
A dwarfish bully, vainly proud