My foot is on my native heath, and my name is MacGregor.
For deadly fear can time outgo, and blanch at once the hair.
Steady of heart and stout of hand.
He turn'd his charger as he spake, Upon the river shore, He gave his bridle reins a shake, Said, "Adieu for evermore, my love, And adieu for evermore."
Land of my sires! what mortal hand Can e'er untie the filial band That knits me to thy rugged strand!
Love will subsist on wonderfully little hope but not altogether without it.