The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson ... for the first time fully collected and compared with the original and early editions ... edited ... by the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart ... with portrait, illustrations, &c |
 | I. |
|
| II. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
|
| III. |
|
| IV. |
 | The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson |  |
Come then, O come, your burning streets forego,
Your lanes and warfs, where winds infectious blow;
For deep majestic woods and opening glades,
And shining pools and awe-inspiring shades;
Where fragrant flowers perfume the air around,
And bending orchards kiss the flowery ground;
And luscious berries spread a feast for Jove,
And golden cherries stud the boughs above.
Amidst these various sweets, thy rustic friend
Shall to each woodland haunt, thy steps attend;
His noontide walks, his vine-entwisted bowers,
The old associates of his lonely hours;
While friendship's converse, generous and sincere,
That mingles joy with joy, and tear with tear;
Shall fill each heart, and give to mem'ry's eye
Those native shores where fond relations sigh;
Where War accursed, and haggard Famine howl,
And R[oyal] D[ukes] o'er prostrate millions growl;
While we, alas! these mournful scenes retrace,
In climes of plenty, liberty, and peace;
A mingled flood of joy and grief shall flow,
For this so free, and that so full of woe.
Your lanes and warfs, where winds infectious blow;
For deep majestic woods and opening glades,
And shining pools and awe-inspiring shades;
Where fragrant flowers perfume the air around,
And bending orchards kiss the flowery ground;
And luscious berries spread a feast for Jove,
And golden cherries stud the boughs above.
Amidst these various sweets, thy rustic friend
Shall to each woodland haunt, thy steps attend;
His noontide walks, his vine-entwisted bowers,
The old associates of his lonely hours;
192
That mingles joy with joy, and tear with tear;
Shall fill each heart, and give to mem'ry's eye
Those native shores where fond relations sigh;
Where War accursed, and haggard Famine howl,
And R[oyal] D[ukes] o'er prostrate millions growl;
While we, alas! these mournful scenes retrace,
In climes of plenty, liberty, and peace;
A mingled flood of joy and grief shall flow,
For this so free, and that so full of woe.
| The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson | |