Hail to the Chief. (From the Lady of the Lake)
Hail to the chief who in triumph advances,
Honored and blest be the evergreen pine,
Long may the tree in his banner that glances,
Flourish the shelter and grace of our line.
Heaven send it happy dew,
Earth lend it sap anew,
Gayly to bourgeon, and broadly to grow,
While every Highland glen
Sends our shout back again,
Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!
Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!
Ours is no sapling, chance-sown by the fountain,
Blooming at Beltante, in winter to fade;
When the whirlwind has stript every leaf on the mountain,
The more shall Clan Alpine exult in her shade.
Moored in the rifted rock,
Proof to the tempest's shock,
Firmer he roots him the ruder it blow;
Menteith and Breadalbane, then,
echo his praise again,
Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!
Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!
Row, vassals row, for the pride of the Highlands!
Stretch to your oars, for the evergreen pine
Oh that the rosebud that graces yon islands,
Were wreathed in a garland around him to twine!
Oh that some seedling gem,
Worthy such noble stem,
Honored and blest in their shadow might grow!
Loud should Clan Alpine then,
Ring from her deepmost glen
Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!
Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!
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