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.
