"A thing of beauty Is a Joy forever."
I've wandered rugged Scotland through
From Caithness to the Clyde,
But of all the hills that love the blue,
Ben Lomond thou'rt the pride.
And oft while thinking upon thee
My eyes will overflow,
And still in dreams thy form I see,
As I saw thee long ago.
I see thee wrapt in sable shroud,
While lightnings round thee play,
And Ailsa, like a thunder cloud,
Is looming far away.
To thee the storm brought forth his hosts
To sweep the isles afar,
While clouds led on, like sheeted ghosts,
The thunderer in his car.
And while he muttered in his wrath
Old Ben thou wert not dumb,
And shrieking eagles fled his path
At thy dread hurly hum.
When Spring in gay green valleys sung,
And clouds away were rolled,
And o'er thy head the rainbow hung
A diadem of gold,
Then thou to me wert all a dream,
The joy of earth and air,
And still to memory thou dost seem
A glory towering there.
And I would give uncounted gold
To see thee once again,
To look, as in the days of old,
On my own giant Ben.