Ossian Collection > Selections from the Gaelic bards

LOCH-IN-DAAL. 217
And Burns has sung his cordial songs,
And Shakespeare met me here ;
And Thomson painted thy fair scenes,
And Horace became dear.
Isaiah here hath rapt my soul,
And Job hath thrilled me through.
And David's hallowed strains I learnt ;
And all those glories threw
A charm about thy plains and hills.
That day-light never knew.
The dark-brown hills they gird thee yet,
The ships frequent thy bay ;
The cattle low along thy shore
At closing of the day ;
And people plough, and reap, and sow, —
All in the ancient way.
And thou art still the same thyself
As thou wert years ago ;
Thy flashing waters plunge and roll.
And murmuring, ebb and flow ;
And clouds sail o'er thy lucid breast.
And bright suns on thee glow.
While I have changed, and nobler things
Than thou have changed with me, —
Hearts that have life, and thought, and hope,
And yet must daily see
So much they care for join the past,
Like my young thoughts of thee.
Sweet Loch! farewell ! T love to see
Yon sunshine gild thy breast,
For surely He who keeps thee so.
In fadeless glory drest.
Can treasure yet for me what's gone,
At its brightest and its best,
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