The Poetical Works of Robert Story | ||
To Craven's emerald dales transferred,
That simple Harp with praise is heard.
The manliest sons, the loveliest daughters
That flourish by the Aire's young waters,
By hurrying Ribble's verdant side,
And by the Wharf's impetuous tide,
Laud its wild strains. And, for this cause,
While throbs my breast to kind applause—
Nay, when, beneath the turf laid low,
No kind applause my breast can know,
The Poet's blessing, heart-bequeathed,
O'er thy domains, green Craven! breathed,
Shall be to every hill and plain
Like vernal dew, or summer rain,
And stay with thee, while bud or bell
Decks lowland mead or upland fell!
That simple Harp with praise is heard.
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That flourish by the Aire's young waters,
By hurrying Ribble's verdant side,
And by the Wharf's impetuous tide,
Laud its wild strains. And, for this cause,
While throbs my breast to kind applause—
Nay, when, beneath the turf laid low,
No kind applause my breast can know,
The Poet's blessing, heart-bequeathed,
O'er thy domains, green Craven! breathed,
Shall be to every hill and plain
Like vernal dew, or summer rain,
And stay with thee, while bud or bell
Decks lowland mead or upland fell!
The Poetical Works of Robert Story | ||