Ben Lomond

Hadst thou a genius on thy peak,
What tales, white-headed Ben,
Couldst thou of ancient ages speak,
That mock th’ historian’s pen!

Thy long duration makes our lives
Seem but so many hours;
And likens to the bees’ frail hives
Our most stupendous towers.

Temples and towers thou’st seen begun,
New creeds, new conquerors sway;
And, like their shadows in the sun,
Hast seen them swept away.

Thy stedfast summit, heaven-allied
(Unlike life’s little span).
Looks down, a Mentor, on the pride
Of perishable man.