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Lays of the Highlands and Islands

By John Stuart Blackie

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KINLOCH LEVEN.
  
  
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121

KINLOCH LEVEN.

As when a student toiling with annoy,
Through long dry tomes that tomb the dusty past,
Lights on some gleam of nobleness at last,
He brightens, and his heart leaps up for joy;
So glad was I when from the cheerless hue
Of broad bleak moor, black loch, and swampy fen,
Deep from the rich warm bosom of the glen,
The green Kinloch stept brightly into view.
Happy the chief who in such still retreat,
Nurses the memory of long-centuried sires,
Whose faithful people go with forward feet
Where his eye flashes, and his voice inspires,
Who makes the hills his home, and reigns a king
O'er willing hearts who love his sheltering wing.