A shady knoll o'erlooks a dale Where Earn meanders down the vale; A knoll enwreathed in oak and fern, The sweetest nook in all Strathearn. The morn there breaks with earliest ray, Here latest shines the lingering day, There summer reigns supremely fair, And winter ev'n is lovely there. Its eastern prospect looks entire Along the glades of Ochtertyre; Its south, a mountain forest shade By dark blue pine and larches made; While lone Glenartney in the west Lies cradled like a turtle's nest, And huge Benvoirlich crown'd with snow Defends the smiling glens below. Dear shady knoll, whose varied view Enfolds green field and mountain blue, How oft at morn and eventide I've strolled around thy stony side And listened to the artless song That swell'd the glorious vale along! Mark'd where the sunbeams kindliest fell On rocky ridge and heathery dell, And yielded all my soul to share The teachings of a scene so fair! In storm or calm, thy grateful shade My fond retreat was ever made. There have I marked the thunder cloud Invest all heaven with sable shroud; There heard the peal arouse again The echoes of the Turret glen, While Auchingarroch from afar Rolled back the elemental war; There have I watched wing'd lightning play Adown Glenartney's rugged way, Or gild each flinty summit hoar From Callander to far Ken More; There seen the Ruchill deluge foam, And o'er the strath in eddies roam, Sweeping beyond the power to save A golden harvest on its wave. * * * * * High on my left, unstained by storm, An obelisk uprears its form; Commemorates in fitting style Heroic deeds upon the Nile, When he who conquered in Mysore To Afric's sands his legions bore, And showed the trembling prince and slave The gentleness of one that's brave. Yet on that monumental stone More feats of high renown are shown, Where he a prisoner and enchained, At last his noblest laurels gained: Lived to avenge each treacherous wrong, And triumph when he suffered long. There, too, his brilliant tasks to cope, 'Tis told he seized the Cape of Hope; And sad Corunna's bloody shore But added to his fame the more. A widow's love the warrior praised, A widow's love the column raised; And yet that column tall and bold, Traced in the lines of Egypt old, Arises as a new cut stone Amid the dust of ages gone; For while it tells of yesterday, It stands upon the summit grey Where stately tower and donjon stern Were keep and tomb of fair Strathearn; Where Wallace oft his prowess tried, And royal Bruce in valour vied. Talk we of Bruce? By yon dark wood The Comyn's ancient fortress stood-- That traitor whose unhappy fate Still on the monarch's conscience sate, And urged him in a zeal divine To send his heart to Palestine.