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
Ah! there my young footsteps in infancy wander'd
My cap was the bonnet, my cloak was my plaid
On chieftains long perish'd my memory ponder'd
As daily I strode thro' the pine cover'd glade
I sought not my home till the day's dying glory
Gave place to the rays of the bright Polar star
For fancy was cheer'd by traditional story
Disclos'd by the natives of dark Lochnagar
Years have roll'd on, Lochnagar, since I left you
Years must roll on ere I see you again
Though nature of verdure and flow'rs has bereft you
Yet still are you dearer than Albion's plain
England, thy beauties are tame and domestic
To one who has roamed over mountains afar
Oh! for the crags that are wild and majestic
The steep frowning glories of dark Lochnagar