Classic Poem

A FRAGMENT

Yet , ere oblivion shade each fairy scene,
Ere capes and cliffs and waters intervene,
Ere distant walks my pilgrim feet explore
By Elbe's slow wanderings and the Danish shore,
Still to my country turns my partial view,
That seems the dearest at the last adieu.

Ye lawns and grottos of the clustered plain,
Ye mountain-walks, Edina's green domain,
Haunts of my youth! where, oft, by fancy drawn
At vermeil eve, still noon, or shady dawn,
My soul, secluded from the deafening throng,
Has wooed the bosom-prompted power of song;
And thou, my loved abode, romantic ground!
With ancient towers and spiry summits crown'd,
Home of the polished art and liberal mind,
By truth and taste enlightened and refined,
Thou scene of Scotland's glory! now decayed,
Where once her senate and her sceptre swayed —
As round thy mouldered monuments of fame
Tradition points an emblem and a name
Lo! what a group imagination brings
Of starred barons and of throned kings!
Departed days in bright succession start
And all the patriot kindles in my heart.
......................
Even musing here, beside the Druid-stone,
Where British Arthur built his airy throne,
Far as my sight can travel o'er the scene
From Lomond's height to Roslin's lovely green,
On every moor, wild wood, and mountain side,
From Forth's fair windings to the ocean tide,
On each the legendary loves to tell
Where chiefs encountered and the mighty fell;
Each war-worn turret on the distant shore
Speaks like a herald of the feats of yore;
And, though the shades of dark oblivion frown
On sacred scenes and deeds of high renown,
Yet still some oral tale, some chanted rhyme,
Shall mark the spot, and teach succeeding time
How oft our fathers, to their country true,
The glorious sword of independence drew;
How well their plaided clans, in battle tried,
Impenetrably stood, or greatly died;
How long the genius of their rights delayed,
How sternly guarded, and how late betrayed.
.......................
Fair fields of Roslin — memorable name!
Attest my words, and speak my country's fame!
Soft, as yon mantling haze of distance broods
Around thy waterfalls and aged woods,
The south sun chequers all thy birchen glade
With glimmering lights and deep-retiring shade —
Fresh coverts of the dale, so dear to tread
When morn's wild blackbird carols overhead,
Or when the sunflower shuts her bosom fair,
And scented berries breathe delicious air.
Dear is thy pastoral haunt to him that woos
Romantic nature, silence, and the Muse;
But dearer still when that returning time
Of fruits and flowers, the year's Elysian prime,
Invites — one simple festival to crown —
Young social wanderers from the sultry town.
Ah me! no sumptuous revelry to share
The cheerful bosom asks or envies there;
Nor sighs for gorgeous splendours, such as wait
On feasts of wealth and riots of the great.
Far sweeter seems the livelong summer-day
With loved companions on these walks to stray,
And lost in joys of more enchanting flow
Than tasteless art or luxury bestow.
Here in auspicious moments to impart
The first fond breathings of a proffered heart
Shall favoured love repair; and smiling youth
To gentle beauty vow the vows of truth.
.......................
Fair morn ascends, and sunny June has shed
Ambrosial odours o'er the garden-bed,
And wild bees seek the cherry's sweet perfume
Or cluster round the full-blown apple-bloom.