| |
| LISTEN to me, as when ye heard our father | |
| Sing long ago the song of other shores— | |
| Listen to me, and then in chorus gather | |
| All your deep voices as ye pull your oars: | |
| Fair these broad meads—these hoary woods are grand; | 5 |
| But we are exiles from our fathers’ land. | |
| |
| From the lone shieling of the misty island | |
| Mountains divide us, and the waste of seas— | |
| Yet still the blood is strong, the heart is Highland, | |
| And we in dreams behold the Hebrides: | 10 |
| Fair these broad meads, &c. | |
| |
| We ne’er shall tread the fancy-haunted valley, | |
| Where ’tween the dark hills creeps the small clear stream, | |
| In arms around the patriarch banner rally, | |
| Nor see the moon on royal tombstones gleam: | 15 |
| Fair these broad meads, &c. | |
| |
| When the bold kindred, in the time long-vanished, | |
| Conquered the soil and fortified the keep,— | |
| No seer foretold the children would be banished, | |
| That a degenerate Lord might boast his sheep: | 20 |
| Fair these broad meads, &c. | |
| |
| Come foreign rage—let Discord burst in slaughter! | |
| O then for clansmen true, and stern claymore— | |
| The hearts that would have given their blood like water, | |
| Beat heavily beyond the Atlantic roar: | 25 |
| Fair these broad meads—these hoary woods are grand; | |
| But we are exiles from our fathers’ land. | |
| |
