Nevis, in white snowy splendours,
Gives Cruachan greeting again.
O'er dread Glencoe
The greeting doth go
And where Etive winds fair in the glen;
And he hears the call
In his steep north wall,
"God bless thee, old Cruachan Ben."

When the north winds their forces muster,
And ruin rides high on the storm,
All calm, in the midst of their bluster,
He stands with his forehead enorm.
When block on block,
With thundering shock,
Comes hurtled confusedly down,
No whit recks he,
But laughs to shake free
The dust from his old gray crown.

And while torrents on torrents are pouring
Down his sides with a wild, savage glee,
And when louder the loud Awe is roaring,
And the soft lake swells to a sea,
He smiles through the storm,
And his heart grows warm
As he thinks how his streams feed the plains
And the brave old Ben
Grows young again,
And swells with his lusty veins.

For Cruachan is king of the mountains
That gird in the lovely Loch Awe;
Loch Etive is fed from his fountains,
By the streams of the dark-rushing Awe.
Ere Adam was made
He rear'd his head
Sublime o'er the green winding glen;
And when flame wraps the sphere,
O'er earth's ashes shall peer
The peak of the old granite Ben.

THE BRAES OF MAR.

Farewell ye braes of broad Braemar,
From you my feet must travel far,
Thou high-peak'd steep-cliff'd Loch-na-Gar,
Farewell, farewell for ever!
Thou lone green glen where I was born,
Where free I stray'd in life's bright morn.
From thee my heart is rudely torn,
And I shall see thee never!

The braes of Mar with heather glow,
The healthful breezes o'er them blow,
The gushing torrents from them flow,
That swell the rolling river.
Strong hills that nursed the brave and free,
On banks of clear, swift-rushing Dee,
My widow'd eyne no more shall see
Your birchen bowers for ever!

Farewell thou broad and bare Muicdhui
Ye stout old pines of lone Glen Lui,
Thou forest wide of Ballochbuie,
Farewell, farewell for ever!
In you the rich may stalk the deer,
Thou 'lt know the tread of prince and peer;