Away, ye gay landscapes, ye gardens of roses,|
In you let the minions of luxury rove,
Restore me the rocks where the snow-flake reposes,
Though still they are sacred to freedom and love.
Yet Caledonia, belov'd are thy mountains,
Round their white summits the elements war
Though cataracts foam 'stead of smooth-flowing fountains,
I sigh for the valley of dark Lochnagar.
2. Ah! there my young footsteps in infancy wander'd,
3. Years have roll'd on, Lochnagar, since I left you!
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