Caledonia Lyrics

There was once a day, but old Time was then young

That brave Caledonia, the chief of her line

From some of your northern deities sprung

Who knows not that brave Caledonia's divine

From Tweed to the Orcades was her domain

To hunt, or to pasture, or do what she would

Her heavenly relations there fixed her reign

And pledged her their godheads to warrant it good

A lambkin in peace, but a lion in war

The pride of her kindred, the heroine grew

Her grandsire, old Odin, triumphantly swore

Who e'r shall provoke thee, the encounter shall rue

With tillage or pasture at times she would sport

To feed her fair flocks by her green rustling corn

But chiefly the woods were her favorite resort

Her darling amusement, the hounds and the horn

Long quiet she reigned; till thitherward steers

A flight of bold eagles from Adria's strand

Repeated, successive, for many long years

They darkened the air, and they plundered the land

Their pounces were murder, and horror their cry

They'd conquered and ruined a world beside

She took to her hills, and her arrows let fly

The daring invaders they fled or they died

The cameleon savage disturbed her repose

With tumult, disquiet, rebellion, and strife

Provoked beyond bearing, at last she arose

And robbed him at once of his hopes and his life

The Anglian lion, the terror of France

Oft prowling, ensanguined the Tweed's silver flood

But, taught by the bright Caledonian lance

He learned to fear in his own native wood

The fell Harpy-raven took wing from the north

The scourge of the seas, and the dread of the shore

The wild Scandinavian boar issued forth

To wanton in carnage and wallow in gore

O'er countries and kingdoms their fury prevailed

No arts could appease them, no arms could repel

But brave Caledonia in vain they assailed

As Largs well can witness, and Loncartie tell

Thus bold, independent, unconquered, and free

Her bright course of glory for ever shall run

For brave Caledonia immortal must be

I'll prove it from Euclid as clear as the sun

Rectangle-triangle, the figure we'll choose

The upright is Chance, and old Time is the base

But brave Caledonia's the hypothenuse

Then, ergo, she'll match them, and match them always