 | The Highlanders, and other poems |  |
234
WRITTEN IN ONE OF THE DUKE OF ATHOLE'S WALKS AT BLAIR,
AFTER MAKING A CLANDESTINE ENTRANCE THROUGH THE RIVER TILT, THEN VERY LOW; SUMMER 1796.
There I suck the liquid air,
All amidst the gardens fair.
MILTON.
All amidst the gardens fair.
MILTON.
Your jealous walls, great Duke, in vain
All access would refuse;
What walls can Highland steps restrain?
What bars keep out the Muse?
Where'er I go I bring with me
“That mountain-nymph, sweet Liberty!”
All access would refuse;
What walls can Highland steps restrain?
What bars keep out the Muse?
Where'er I go I bring with me
“That mountain-nymph, sweet Liberty!”
Would you engross each breathing sweet
Yon violet banks exhale?
Or trees with od'rous blooms replete,
That scent th' enamour'd gale?
Alike they smile on you and me,
Like Nature and sweet Liberty!
Yon violet banks exhale?
Or trees with od'rous blooms replete,
That scent th' enamour'd gale?
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Like Nature and sweet Liberty!
While pleasure's fleeting form you trace
In Mona's distant isle,
And leave forlorn your native place
Where rural beauties smile:
Congenial see them smile for me,
Then do not grudge my Liberty.
In Mona's distant isle,
And leave forlorn your native place
Where rural beauties smile:
Congenial see them smile for me,
Then do not grudge my Liberty.
Eneas pass'd with branch of gold
The gloomy gates below;
And silver branches, I am told,
Can smooth your porter's brow;
But wand'ring Highland folks like me,
Can seldom purchase Liberty.
The gloomy gates below;
And silver branches, I am told,
Can smooth your porter's brow;
But wand'ring Highland folks like me,
Can seldom purchase Liberty.
While musing by the Tilt I stood,
And view'd its wand'ring tide,
Uprose a Naiad from the flood,
And beckoning shew'd its side:
I took the kindly hint with glee,
And scrambled hard for Liberty.
And view'd its wand'ring tide,
Uprose a Naiad from the flood,
And beckoning shew'd its side:
I took the kindly hint with glee,
And scrambled hard for Liberty.
Beneath the bridge's bending arch
My vent'rous steps she led,
Till by yon ancient weeping larch
I laid my wearied head:
While birds methought on every tree,
Rejoicing, hail'd my Liberty!
My vent'rous steps she led,
Till by yon ancient weeping larch
I laid my wearied head:
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Rejoicing, hail'd my Liberty!
The leaden gods above the gate
Aghast with wonder stood,
Olympian Jove, his vixen mate,
And all the heathen brood:
“Bravo!” cried thievish Mercury,
“'Tis right to steal sweet Liberty!”
Aghast with wonder stood,
Olympian Jove, his vixen mate,
And all the heathen brood:
“Bravo!” cried thievish Mercury,
“'Tis right to steal sweet Liberty!”
| The Highlanders, and other poems | |