V.

Scotland!--dear to him was Scotland, In her sons and in her daughters, In her Highlands,--Lowlands,--Islands,-- Regal woods, and rushing waters;-- In the glory of her story, When her tartans fired the field,-- Scotland! oft betray'd--beleagur'd-- Scotland! never known to yield! Dear to him her Doric language,-- Thrill'd his heart-strings at her name;-- And he left her more than rubies, In the riches of his fame.