Address to Ranald MacDonald of Staffa

STAFFA, sprung from high Macdonald,
Worthy branch of old Clan-Ranald,
Staffa, king of all kind fellows,
Well befall thy hills and valleys,
Lakes and inlets, deeps and shallows,
Cliffs of darkness, caves of wonder,
Echoing the Atlantic thunder;
Mountains which the grey mist covers,
Where the Chieftain spirit hovers,
Pausing while his pinions quiver,
Stretch'd to quit our land for ever!
Each kind influence reign above thee!
Warmer heart, 'twixt this and Jaffa
Beats not, than in heart of Staffa!