Ossian Collection > Gaelic bards

LOCHINDAAL. 229
Over the fields I see the house,
Scarcely five minutes' walk
From where we lived, where oft we went
To have a pleasant talk,
With friends for whose kind sake we yet
Mark those old days with chalk.
Dear Loch ! how much I Ve seen by thee.
In fancy's hallowed light
On thy wan clouds the ancient chiefs,
With Ossian took their flight ;
And Douglas, Randolph, met me here.
And Bruce, and Wallace wight.
Old Homer murmured to thy surge
His music in mine ear.
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 wrapt 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 ;