The poetical works of William Nicholson With a memoir by Malcolm M'L. Harper ... Fourth edition |
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THE BANKS OF DEE. |
 | The poetical works of William Nicholson |  |
179
THE BANKS OF DEE.
The purple morn o'erspread the sky,
The day-star shewed his head;
A reverend ruin nodded nigh,
With waters round it spread.
The bird of night had ceased her tale,
And fluttering fled from me;
As softly sighed the morning gale,
Along the banks of Dee.
The day-star shewed his head;
A reverend ruin nodded nigh,
With waters round it spread.
The bird of night had ceased her tale,
And fluttering fled from me;
As softly sighed the morning gale,
Along the banks of Dee.
The bended lilies lined the banks
Around the fishes' bed;
And trees in gay and motley ranks,
Sloped out the flowery glade.
The glossy blackbird on the bough,
Sang to his mate with glee;
And joined the lark, yet wet with dew,
Upon the banks of Dee.
Around the fishes' bed;
And trees in gay and motley ranks,
Sloped out the flowery glade.
The glossy blackbird on the bough,
Sang to his mate with glee;
And joined the lark, yet wet with dew,
Upon the banks of Dee.
Here rustic labour wets his scythe
And sets his edge with care;
The humming wild-bee leaves his hive,
To sip the flowerets fair.
The merry milkmaid gaily sang—
Her bosom light and free;
While listening echoes joined alang,
The winding banks of Dee.
And sets his edge with care;
The humming wild-bee leaves his hive,
To sip the flowerets fair.
The merry milkmaid gaily sang—
Her bosom light and free;
While listening echoes joined alang,
The winding banks of Dee.
180
Here, too, Dame Nature's handmaid, Art,
Had reared her arches gran',
Of bridges rare beyond compare,
On noblest Doric plan.
The shielded mansion half I viewed,
That pleased the passing e'e;
And clustering villages were strewed,
Along the banks of Dee.
Had reared her arches gran',
Of bridges rare beyond compare,
On noblest Doric plan.
The shielded mansion half I viewed,
That pleased the passing e'e;
And clustering villages were strewed,
Along the banks of Dee.
Peace to your scenes, my native plains,
Where plenty ever spreads!
May truth and honour crown your swains,
And beauty grace your maids.
Let rural mirth and pity's sigh,
Still in your breasts agree;
And fellow-feeling still be nigh,
Around the banks of Dee.
Where plenty ever spreads!
May truth and honour crown your swains,
And beauty grace your maids.
Let rural mirth and pity's sigh,
Still in your breasts agree;
And fellow-feeling still be nigh,
Around the banks of Dee.
| The poetical works of William Nicholson | |