Lachin Y Gair
by George Gordon, Lord Byron
(From Hours of Idleness - 1807)
1
- Away, ye gay landscapes, ye garden of roses!
- In you let the minions of luxury rove;
- Restore me to the rocks, where the snowflake reposes,
- Though still they are sacred to freedom and love:
- Yet, Caledonia, beloved are thy mountains,
- Round their white summits though elements war;
- Though cataracts foam stead of smooth-flowing fountains,
- I sigh for the valley of dark Loch na Garr.
2
- Ah! there my young footsteps in infancy wandered;
- My cap was the bonnet, my cloak was the plaid;
- On chieftains long perished my memory pondered,
- As daily I strode through the pine-covered glade;
- I sought not my home till the days dying glory
- Gave place to the rays of the bright polar star;
- For fancy was cheered by traditional story,
- Disclosed by the natives of dark Loch na Garr.
3
- Shades of the dead! have I not heard your voices
- Rise on the night-rolling breath of the gale?
- Surely the soul of the hero rejoices,
- And rides on the wind, oer his own Highland vale.
- Rouch Loch na Garr while the stormy mist gathers,
- Winter presides in his cold icy car:
- Clouds there encircle the forms of my fathers;
- They dwell in the tempests of dark Loch na Garr.
4
- Ill-starred, though brave, did no visions foreboding
- Tell you that fate had forsaken your cause?
- Ah! were you destined to die at Culloden,
- Victory crowned not your fall with applause:
- Still were you happy in deaths earthy slumber,
- You rest with your clan in the caves of Braemar;
- The pibroch resounds, to the pipers loud number,
- Your deeds on the echoes of dark Loch na Garr.
5
- Years have rolled on, Loch na Garr, since I left you,
- Years must elapse ere I tread you again:
- Nature of verdure and flowers has bereft you,
- Yet still are you dearer than Albions plain.
- England! thy beauties are tame and domestic
- To one who has roved oer the mountains afar:
- Oh for the crags that are wild and majestic!
- The steep frowning glories of the dark Loch na Garr.
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