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The Hill of Lochiel.

Long have I pined for thee,
Land of my infancy;
Now will I kneel on thee,
Hill of Lochiel!
Hill of the sturdy steer,
Hill of the roe and deer,
Hill of the streamlet clear,
I love thee well!
When in my youthful prime,
Correi or crag to climb,
Or tow'ring cliff sublime,
Was my delight;
Scaling the eagle's nest,
Wounding the raven's breast,
Skimming the mountain's crest,
Gladsome and light.
Then rose a bolder game—
Young Charlie Stuart came,
Cameron, that loyal name,
Foremost must be!
Hard then our warrior meed,
Glorious our warrior deed,
Till we were doom'd to bleed
By treachery.
Then did the red blood stream;
Then was the broadsword's gleam
Quench'd, in fair freedom's beam
No more to shine:
Then was the morning's brow,
Red with the fiery glow;
Fell hall and hamlet low,
All that were mine.
Far in a hostile land,
Stretch'd on a foreign strand,
Oft has the tear-drop bland
Scorch'd as it fell.
Once was I spurn'd from thee,
Long have I mourn'd for thee,
Now I'm return'd to thee,
Hill of Lochiel!