II.

Tho' rich is the breeze in their gay sunny valleys, And cauld CALEDONIA'S blast on the wave; Their sweet-scented woodlands that skirt the proud palace, What are they?--The haunt of the tyrant and slave! The slave's spicy forests, and gold-bubbling fountains, The brave Caledonian views wi' disdain; He wanders as free as the winds of his mountains, Save love's willing fetters, the chains o' his Jean.

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