University of Virginia Library

Come with us, and we will go
Where the Clyde's broad waters flow;
Where the cloud-capp'd mountains rise
To the dim north-western skies;
Where, through many a creek and bay,
Doth the salt sea find its way
Into those recesses deep
Where the mountain-shadows sleep,
And the dreary dark pine woods
Frown o'er watery solitudes,
Framing in those wilds, I ween,
Many a strange and witching scene,
Far to find, but fair to see,
For such folks as you and me.

Come with us, and we will go
Where the peaks of Arran glow,
In the sunset bright and clear,
Through the sweet months of the year.
There the light of evening lies
Longer than in southern skies;
There the northern meteors glare
Through the murky midnight air;
Till, when morn returns once more,
Rock and mountains, sea and shore,
Glen and valley, lake and stream,
Bask in the refreshing beam,
With more gorgeous light and shade
Than midsummer ever made
In these fertile plains of ours;
There old Goatfel proudly towers
O'er his brother mountains wild,
In sublime confusion piled
Crag on crag, and peak on peak,
Where the eye in vain may seek
One green spot whereon to rest;
There the eagle builds her nest
In Glen Rosa's ebon rocks,
Rent, as seems, by earthquake shocks
Into many a chasm and cleft,
In such huge disorder left
That you might suppose, in sooth,
The old gossip's guess was truth—
That the sweepings here were hurl'd
Of the new-created world.

Come with us, and we'll repair
To the “bonny shire of Ayr;”
To the flowery banks and braes,
Where the Doon's clear current strays
Underneath the holms which lie
Where old Monkwood flouts the sky
With its honest hideousness;
Ne'er did uglier house, I guess,
E'en in Scottish region stand
Mistress of a fairer land;
Ne'er did mansion more uncouth
Shelter age and gladsome youth,
In more loving union met
Than we shall behold there yet;
Though grim death hath busy been,
And though oceans roll between
Us and some with whom we roved
Once amidst those woods beloved.

Come with us; those woods should be
Dear to you as dear to me;
Though you ne'er, in childhood's hours,
Roam'd amidst their banks and bowers;
Though far other scenes than these
Haunt your young remembrances;
Yet, believe me, you shall soon
Love yon bright and brawling Doon,
And those hills and natural woods,
With their summer solitudes,
And the hearts that in them dwell,
And yon graceless house, as well
E'en as if you ne'er had known
Other haunts than these alone;
E'en as if yon clustering trees,
With your earliest sympathies,
In their robes of smiling green,
Still had intermingled been;
E'en as if yon river clear,
Murmuring to your infant ear,
First had, for your spirit, found
Entrance to the world of sound.
Six and twenty years had flown,
Ere by me those scenes were known;
Yet have they to me become
Sacred as my childhood's home;
Dear as though I ne'er had stray'd
From their sweet and sylvan shade.
There, in Love's delicious morn,
Ere our eldest child was born,
Ere youth's latest dream was fled,
Ere young Phantasy was dead,
Ere the Husband or the Wife
Felt the real pains of Life,
Ere Death's touch had harm'd us yet,
Roam'd I with my Margaret:
There, our gentle friends and true,
Gladly would we roam with you.

Come with us; our time is short
In those cherish'd haunts to sport.
All things mortal wax and wane,
Nor may we, even now, complain
That from us and ours, alas!
Must these pleasant places pass;
That for other eyes than ours
We have twined our favourite bowers;
That our own beloved Doon
Must for other ears too soon
Sing his blithe and jocund song
Those o'erhanging banks along;
And that stranger steps must roam
Through our old ancestral home;
Unfamiliar forms be seen
Where our loved and lost have been;
Unfamiliar spirits dwell
In the rooms we loved so well,
Homely though perchance they be
In their old simplicity.
So it is;—we find on earth
No continuing home or hearth;
Still through chance and change we roam,
Seeking better lands to come.

Come with us, and we will go
Where the streams of Zion flow
Through the city of our God,
Which no foot profane hath trod.
Change and sorrow come not there;
All is fix'd, as all is fair.
Earthly glories fade and fleet,
Nothing long on Earth is sweet;
Though our woods may still be green,
And sweet Doon may gush between,
Clear and sparkling as of old,
Yet no more may we behold
On his banks the forms that gave
Half their glory—for the grave
Hath already closed o'er some;
Others in their Eastern home,
Wander, nightly, in their dreams,
Through the woods and near the streams,
Which, when life is worn away,
And their temples strewn with grey,
And their hearts' best fervour o'er,
Haply they shall see once more;
See—by alien lords possest,
When our griefs are gone to rest.

Come with us;—let Memory still
Feed and cherish, as she will,
Forms of beauty gone and past,
Pleasures too intense to last.
Meet support therein may be
For the heart's infirmity;
But for us a brighter home
Spreads its glories;—let us come
Whither Faith, and Hope, and Love,
Urge our laggard steps above:
Let us such high call obey,
Help each other on the way;
Through the narrow entrance press
Of the realm of righteousness;
Where, in joy's eternal river,
This world's griefs are lost for ever.