Dear is this land to me, dear is this land;
O Alba of the lochs!
Sure I would not be sailing sad from thy foam-white sand
Were I not sailing with Naoise for the Irish strand.
Dear is the Forest Fort and high DunFinn,
And Dun Sween, and Innis Drayno,
Often with Naoise have I striven to win
To the wooded heights of these - and now we go
Far hence, and to me it is a parting of woe.
O woods of Coona, I can hear the singing
Of the west wind among the branches green
And the leaping and laughing of cool waters springing
And my heart aches for all that has been,
For all that has been, my Home,
all that has been!
Fain would I be once more in the woods of Glen Cain,
Fain would I sleep on the fern in that place;
Of the fish, venison, and white badger's flesh I am fain
That plentifully we had there, or wherever our trail
Carried us, yea, I am fain of that place.
Glenmassan! O Glenmassan!
High the sorrel there, and the sweet fragrant grasses;
It would be well if I were listening now to where
In Glenmassan the sun shines and
the cool west wind passes
Glenmassan of the grasses!
Loch Etive, O fair Loch Etive,
that was my first home,
I think of thee now when on the grey-green sea
And beneath the mist in my eyes
and the flying foam
I look back wearily,
I look back wearily to thee!
Glen Orchy, O Glen Orchy,
fair sweet glen,
Was I ever more happy than in thy shade?
Was not Naoise there the happiest of men?
O may thy beauty never fade,
Most fair and sweet and beautiful glade.
Glen of the Roes, Glen of the Roes,
In thee I have dreamed to the full
my happy dream;
O that where the shallow bickering
Ruel flows,
I might hear again, o'er its flashing
gleam,
The cuckoos calling by the murmuring stream.
Ah, well I remember the Isle of Thorn
In dark and beautiful Loch Awe afar;
Ah, from these I am now like a flower uptorn,
Who shall soon be more lost than a falling star,
And am now as a blown flame in the front of war!
