 | Poems |  |
68
SONNET,
ON BEING REQUESTED TO WRITE ON SCOTTISH SCENERY.
Fair art thou, Scotia! The swift mountain streamGushes, with deafening roar and whitening spray,
From thy brown hills; where eagles seek their prey,
Or soar, undazzled, in the solar beam;
But, dearer far to me, be thou my theme,
My native Hampshire! Thy sweet valleys gay,
Trees, spires, and cots, that in the brilliant ray
Confus'dly glitter, like a morning dream:
And thou, fair forest! lovely are thy shades,
Thy oaks majestic, o'er the billows pale
High spreading their green arms; or the deep glades,
Where the dark holly, arm'd in prickly mail,
Shelters the yellow fern, and tufted blades,
That wave responsive to the sighing gale.
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