Classic Poem

CLYDE'S WELCOME TO HIS PRINCE.

What cheerful sounds from ev'ry side I hear!
How beauteous on their banks my nymphs appear!
Got thro' these massy mountains at my source,
O'er rocks stupendous of my upper course,
To these fair plains where I more smoothly move,
Throw verdant vales to meet Avona's love.
Yonder she comes beneath Dodonia's shade,
How blyth she looks, how sweet and gaylie clade!
Her flow'ry bounds bear all the pride of May,
While round her soft meanders shepherds play.
Hail, lovely Naid! to my bosom large,
Amidst my stores, commit thy crystal charge,
And speak these joys all thy deportment shews,
That to old Ocean I may have good news.
With solemn voice thus spoke majestic Clyde;
In softer notes lov'd Avon thus reply'd:

Great Glotta! long have I had cause to mourn,
While my forsaken stream gush'd from my urn;
Since my late Lord, his nation's just delight,
Greatly lamented sunk in endless night.
His hopeful Stem, our chief desire and boast,
Expos'd to danger on some foreign coast,
Lonely for years I 've murmur'd on my way,
When dark I wept, and sigh'd in shining day.

The sire return'd: — Just reasons for thy pains,
So long to wind thro' solitary plains;
Thy loss was mine, I sympathiz'd with thee,
Since one our griefs, then share thy joys with me.

Then hear me, liquid chieftain of the dale,
Hush all your cat'racts till I tell my tale,
Then rise and roar, and kiss your bord'ring flowers,
And sound our joys around yon lordly towers;
Yon lorldly towers, which happy now contain
Our brave and youthful Prince, return'd again.

Welcome! in loudest raptures cry'd the flood;
His welcome echo'd from each hill and wood:
Enough, Avona; long may they contain.
The noble youth, safely return'd again.
From the green mountain where I lift my head,
With my twin-brothers, Annan and the Tweed,
To those high arches where, as Culdees sing,
The pious Mungo fish'd the trout and ring;
My fairest nymphs shall on my margin play,
And make e'en all the year one holiday:
The sylvan powers and watches of each hight,
Where fleecy flocks and climbing goats delight,
Shall from their groves and rocky mountains roam,
To join with us and sing his welcome home.
With lofty notes we 'll sound his high descent,
His dawning merits, and heroic bent;
Those early rays which stedfastly shall shine,
And add new glories to his ancient line;
A line aye loyal, and fir'd with gen'rous zeal,
The bravest patrons of the commonweal:
From him, who plung'd the sword (so muses sing)
Deep in his breast, who durst defame our king.
We 'll sing the fire which in his bosom glows,
To warm his friends, and scorch his daring foes;
Endow'd with all those sweet, yet manly charms,
As fit him for the fields of love or arms:
Fixt in an high and independent state,
Above to act what 's little, to be great.

Guard him, first Pow'r, whose hand directs the sun,
And teach him through dark caverns to run;
Long may he on his own fair plains reside,
And slight my rival Thames, and love his Clyde.