FAREWELL ODE ON LEAVING SCOTLAND. LAND of the North, farewell! Thy mountains disappear,— Thy streams no longer swell Their voices on mine ear, Sadly I turn me from thy strand, Thou fair, thou wild, thou holy, land! Science has often told The treasures thou canst boast; And song has often rolled To sound thy patriot-host! Tears can I only give the shore, Where I, perchance, may rove no more. I love thy purple mount, Beneath a setting sun, While many a bubbling fount Its silvery course shall run; And hill-side shadows stretch away, I love thy placid lake, A mirror, mountain-bound, A jocund chorus round, And rippling beauties o'er it play, And music's sweetest murmurs stray! I love thy deepmost glen, Where timid wild-flowers blow, Well up and gently flow,- I love thy loud cascade, Thundering with endless foam, Gemming with dews the glade, Then, truant, reckless roam Along a thousand devious ways, Yet threading skilfully the maze! I love thy landscape wood, O'er which dark ruin stole ;— I love thy little isle, Embosomed on the lake, And where o'er magic pile The storms of ocean break; Then guide my skiff to fairy realm, Or 'mid dark billows hold my helm ! I love thy broad mist-wreath That round the mountain creeps, In every varying contour twine, Yet ties far nobler bind Thine image to mine heart, And round it still shall wind, Thine, mercies ever new! Thine, statutes which are right ! Midian of blessed dew, Goshen of heavenly light! O people saved by the Lord, Thy shield, thy banner, and thy sword! Let pious sacrifice Thy farthest valleys mark! Let, too, again arise Thy cotter-patriarch! Let thy land keep her Sabbaths still, Invoke thy Witness-cloud, That awful, spectral, band,— Who ne'er to tyrants bowed, The glory of thy land,— Say, is their noble courage fled, Should evil days decline O'er scenes their blood has nursed,— Angels forsake thy shrine! The patriot's tie is burst! And though thy soil shall still remain, Thy hills might tower as high, Thy streams as sweetly sigh, Thy flowers still fringe thy crown,— The glory of the Lord thy God Land of the North, farewell! Small trust dost thou receive To guard each rock-built dell,— More solemn charge I leave,To claims, which earth accords thy due, Be strictly just, be greatly true! AN ALLEGORY. I WANDERED a fugitive Dove, Far, far from a refuge and home. And loud swept the tempest's wild din: Ah where was the Covenant-Ark? Where He who might draw me within? Still onward the terrible surge O'er barrier mountains was hurled ; Then heavily faltered my wing, I drooped from my once buoyant flight; I struggled a poor lifeless thing, While mine eye floated darkling in night. But when yielding up to my fate, I saw with the look of despair, The dread world of waters abate, And the spray of the olive was there! Sweet pledge of the Waters' decrease, I enter the safe-gliding nest ;- As a star rising out of the wave, Through the tumult it only careered : My quiet no storm can destroy,- And now other regions I hail, New earth and new heavens there glow: That verdure, that azure, ne'er fail, Nor are marr'd by the tempests below. To bask in the sunlight's broad ray! To shine in the rainbow's pure vest! Oh that I could now flee away, And there be for ever at rest! |