caledonia—a bald
tune—“caledonian hunts&039; delight” of r gow
there was once a day, but old ti wasythen young,
that brave caledonia, the chief of her le,
fro of your northern deities sprung,
(who knows not that brave caledonia&039;s dive?)
fro eed to the orcades was her doa,
to hunt, or to pasture, or do what she would:
her heav&039;nly retions there fixed her reign,
and pledg&039;d her their godheads to warrant it good
a bk peace, but a lion war,
the pride of her kdred, the heroe grew:
her grandsire, old od, triuphantly swore,—
“whoe&039;er shall provoke thee, th&039; enunter shall rue!”
with til or pasture at tis she would sport,
to feed her fair flocks by her green rtlg rn;
but chiefly the woods were her fav&039;rite rert,
her darlg aent, the hounds and the horn
long iet she reigned; till thitherward steers
a flight of bold eagles fro adria&039;s strand:
repeated, suessive, for any long years,
they darken&039;d the air, and they pnder&039;d the nd:
their pounces were urder, and terror their cry,
they&039;d ner&039;d and ru&039;d a world beside;
she took to her hills, and her arrows let fly,
the darg vaders they fled or they died
the caleon-sava disturb&039;d her repose,
with tuult, disiet, rebellion, and strife;
provok&039;d beyond bearg, at st she arose,
and robb&039;d hi at once of his hopes and his life:
the anglian lion, the terror of france,
oft prowlg, ensangu&039;d the eed&039;s silver flood;
but, taught by the bright caledonian nce,
he learned to fear his own native wood
the fell harpy-raven took g fro the north,
the sur of the seas, and the dread of the shore;
the wild scandavian boar issued forth
to wanton carna and wallow gore:
o&039;er untries and kgdos their fury prevail&039;d,
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