When I Roved A Young Highlander [i]
1.
When I rov'd a young Highlander o'er the dark heath,
And climb'd thy steep summit, oh Morven of snow! [1]
To gaze on the torrent that thunder'd beneath,
Or the mist of the tempest that gather'd below; [2]
Untutor'd by science, a stranger to fear,
And rude as the rocks, where my infancy grew,
No feeling, save one, to my bosom was dear;
Need I say, my sweet Mary, [3] 'twas centred in you?
2.
Yet it could not be Love, for I knew not the name,—
What passion can dwell in the heart of a child?
But, still, I perceive an emotion the same
As I felt, when a boy, on the crag-cover'd wild:
One image, alone, on my bosom impress'd,
I lov'd my bleak regions, nor panted for new;
And few were my wants, for my wishes were bless'd,
And pure were my thoughts, for my soul was with you.
3.
I arose with the dawn, with my dog as my guide,
From mountain to mountain I bounded along;
I breasted [4] the billows of Dee's [5] rushing tide,
And heard at a distance the Highlander's song:
At eve, on my heath-cover'd couch of repose.
No dreams, save of Mary, were spread to my view;
And warm to the skies my devotions arose,
For the first of my prayers was a blessing on you.
4.
1.
When I rov'd a young Highlander o'er the dark heath,
And climb'd thy steep summit, oh Morven of snow! [1]
To gaze on the torrent that thunder'd beneath,
Or the mist of the tempest that gather'd below; [2]
Untutor'd by science, a stranger to fear,
And rude as the rocks, where my infancy grew,
No feeling, save one, to my bosom was dear;
Need I say, my sweet Mary, [3] 'twas centred in you?
2.
Yet it could not be Love, for I knew not the name,—
What passion can dwell in the heart of a child?
But, still, I perceive an emotion the same
As I felt, when a boy, on the crag-cover'd wild:
One image, alone, on my bosom impress'd,
I lov'd my bleak regions, nor panted for new;
And few were my wants, for my wishes were bless'd,
And pure were my thoughts, for my soul was with you.
3.
I arose with the dawn, with my dog as my guide,
From mountain to mountain I bounded along;
I breasted [4] the billows of Dee's [5] rushing tide,
And heard at a distance the Highlander's song:
At eve, on my heath-cover'd couch of repose.
No dreams, save of Mary, were spread to my view;
And warm to the skies my devotions arose,
For the first of my prayers was a blessing on you.
4.
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