ON THE DESOLATED STATE OF THE HIGHLANDS
... Oh, Scotia! dear land of my birth, The land where freedom is enshrined, The land of beauty and of worth- Which despot clhains could never bind; Where patriots turned oppression's tide, And back a tyrant's fetters fung, Where heroes fought and martyrs died, Where sages wrote and poets sung. Still on thy hills the heather blooms, The wild thlyme scents the summer gates, Still Flora every breeze ...