The Poetical Works of Laman Blanchard | ||
140
XVII
THE MOUNTAINS.
Oh! Mountains! On your glorious points sublime,
The threshold of our earth, to stand and see
The seasons on swift wings come forth and flee;
And from the changes of enchanted time
To draw the moral music of my rhyme,—
How full of joy this simple lot would be;
To cushion on the grass my bended knee,
And worship Nature in a clearer clime.
For on the hills have mortal footsteps found
The eagle nest of Freedom, and a throne
Where peasant-princes have been proudly crowned.
Full many a stirring air and pastoral tone
Come breathing from them still; and all the ground
Is full of strange delight and glories deeply sown.
The Poetical Works of Laman Blanchard | ||