It was composed to Jane, daughter of Sir Ewen Cameron of Lochiel, by a young English officer on his being ordered back from the Highlands to join his regiment. Jane Cameron was afterwards married to Lachlan Mac Pherson of Cluny, thus bringing over the tune to the Mac Phersons. The traditional account is entirely different. According to it a party of marauders from Lochaber, consisting of forty to fifty men, reached, one autumn afternoon, the summit of a hill immediately above Glenesk, the most northerly parish of Forfarshire. They meant to make a raid on the valley, but lay down to rest until after dusk. They were, however, seen by some shepherds, who gave the alarm, and in the evening the inhabitants of the glen were all under arms for the protection of their property. After dusk the invaders descended, and in the battle that ensued five of the defenders were killed and ten taken prisoners. Prisoners and cattle were driven to the Highlands. The men returned next year after a ransom of fifteen merks had been paid for each, but the cattle were never seen again. A ballad giving these particulars was long popular in the glen, but nothing now remains of it except the last words of each verse—“Lochaber no more.” Allan Ramsay wrote lines for the air, but they contain nothing of the spirit of the traditional origin. They are obviously based on the historical account:— “Farewell to Lochaber, and farewell my Jean, Where heartsome with thee I’ve mony day been; For Lochaber no more, Lochaber no more, We’ll maybe return to Lochaber no more. Those tears that I shed, they’re a’ for my dear, And no for the dangers attending on weir, Tho’ borne on rough seas to a far, bloody shore, Maybe to return to Lochaber no more. Tho’ hurricanes arise and rise every wind, They’ll ne’er make a tempest like that in my mind; Tho’ loudest of thunder on loudest waves roar, That’s naething like leaving my love on the shore. To leave thee behind me my heart is sair pain’d, By ease that’s inglorious no fame can be gained; And beauty and love’s the reward of the brave, And I must deserve it before I can crave. Then glory, my Jeanie, maun plead my excuse; Since honour commands me, how can I refuse? Without it I ne’er can have merit for thee, And without thy favour I’d better not be. I gae, then, my lass, to win honour and fame, And if I should luck to come gloriously hame, I’ll bring thee a heart with love running o’er, And then I’ll leave thee and Lochaber no more.”