Dark Lochnagar

Words by Lord Byron

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 tho' 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 the 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 elapse ere I tread 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.

PLUS THE BONUS

Lochnagar or Beinn Chìochan is a mountain in the Grampians 

Photo by Bruce McAdam

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