The pure in heart, the contrite pious soul Dwell in unsullied light beyond the starry pole: With wondrous beauty cloth’d, in order bright, To silver larps symphonious hymns they sing, All praise to Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, LACHIN Y GAIR. From Lord Byron's Hours of Idleness. LACHIN Y GAIR, or as it is pronounced in the Erse, Loch NA GARR, towers proudly pre-eminent in the northern Highlands, near Invercauld. One of our modern tourists mentions it as the highest mountain perhaps in Great Britain : be this as it may, it is certainly one of the most sublime and picturesque amongst our “ Caledoniau Alps.” Its appearance is of a dusky hue, but the summit is the seat of eternal snows: near Lachin y Gair I spent some of the early part of my life, the recollection of which has given birth to the following stanzas: I. In let the minions of luxury Though still they are sacred to freedom and love; Yet, Yet, Caledonia! belov'd are thy mountains, Round their white summits though elements war, I sigh for the valley of dark Lochin y Garr. II. My cap was the bonnet, my cloak was the plaid * As daily I strode through the pine-cover'd glade; Gave place to the rays of the bright polar star; Disclos'd by the natives of dark Loch na Garr. III. “ Rise on the night-rolling breath of the gale ?" And rides on the wind o'er his own Highland vale. Winter presides in his cold icy ear, They dwell in the tempests of dark Loch na Garr. IV. “ Tell you that fate had forsaken your cause?" Victory crown'd not your fall with applause; , Your deeds, on the echoes of dark Loch na Garr. Years * This word is erroneously pronounced plad: the proper pronunciation (according to the Scotch) is shewn by the orthography. + I allude here to my maternal ancestors, the “Gordons," many of whom fought for the unfortunate prince Charles, better known by the name of the Pretender. This branch was nearly allied by blood, as well as attachment to the Stuarts. George the ed earl of Huntley, married the priucess Annabella Stuart, daughter of James I. of Scotland. By her he left tour sons; the third sir William Gordon, I have the honour to claim as one of my progenitors. # Whether any perished in the battle of Cnlloden, I am not certain; but as many fell in the insurrection, I have used the name of the principal action, “pars pro toto.” || A tract of the Highlands so called; there is aiso a castle at Braemar. A bagpipe. Years have rolld 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 Albion's plain: Epgland! thy beauties are tame and domestic, To one who has rov'd on the mountains afar, Oh! for the crags that are wild and majestic, The steep, frowning glories of dark Loch na Garr. What though we befriendit young Charlie? To tell it I dinna think shanie; Poor lad! he came to us but barely, An' reckoned our mountains his hame: 'Tis true that our reason forbade us, But tenderness carried the day; Sword an' buckler an'a', An' o I wad eagerly press him The keys of the East to retain; For should he gi'e up the possession, We'll soon hae to force them again; Than yield up an inch wi' dishopour, Though it war my finishin' blow, He ay may depend on Macdonald, wi's Highlandmen all in a row. Knees an' elbows an'a', If Bonapart land at Fort William, Auld Europe nae langer shall grane; Wi' bullet, wi' steel, an' wi' stane; We'll rattle him aff frae our shore ; Stanes an' bullets an'a', The Gordon is gude in a hurry; An' Campbell is strel to the barte; An' Grant, an' Mackenzie, an' Murray, Au' Cameron will hurkle to nane, The Siuarts are sturdy an’ wapple, An’ sae is Macleod an' Mackay; An' I, their gude-brither Macdonald Sal ne'er be the last i’ the fray.-- Brogs |