The Poems of Winthrop Mackworth Praed With a Memoir by the Rev. Derwent Coleridge. Fourth Edition. In Two Volumes |
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 | The Poems of Winthrop Mackworth Praed |  |
369
LINES WRITTEN IN THE SAME,
UNDER A PICTURE OF THE DUCAL PALACE AT HESSE HOMBURG, THE RESIDENCE OF THE PRINCESS ELIZABETH, DAUGHTER OF GEORGE III.
It is a joyous land, I guess;
The sun shines bright, the breeze roves free;
And Nature flings her fairest dress
On humble herb and lofty tree;
But thou wilt think in those far bowers,
With half a smile, and half a sigh,
Thy childhood wreathed as fragrant flowers,
And laughed beneath as warm a sky.
The sun shines bright, the breeze roves free;
And Nature flings her fairest dress
On humble herb and lofty tree;
But thou wilt think in those far bowers,
With half a smile, and half a sigh,
Thy childhood wreathed as fragrant flowers,
And laughed beneath as warm a sky.
And proudly o'er those poplars tall
And tapering firs the Palace gleams;
But ah! the time-worn Castle's wall
Is still remembered in thy dreams;
And that broad Terrace still is dear,
Where, when the star of day went down,
Thy good old Sire went forth to hear
Rich blessings, richer than his crown.
And tapering firs the Palace gleams;
But ah! the time-worn Castle's wall
Is still remembered in thy dreams;
And that broad Terrace still is dear,
Where, when the star of day went down,
Thy good old Sire went forth to hear
Rich blessings, richer than his crown.
370
And other friends are round thee now
Than those that shared thine early mirth;
And thou hast newer slaves to bow,
And foreign lutes to hymn thy worth;
But thou wilt never quite forget
That here, where first thy praise was heard,
Thy virtues are recorded yet,
Thy name is yet a household word.
Than those that shared thine early mirth;
And thou hast newer slaves to bow,
And foreign lutes to hymn thy worth;
But thou wilt never quite forget
That here, where first thy praise was heard,
Thy virtues are recorded yet,
Thy name is yet a household word.
And if thou ne'er may'st see again
The white cliffs of thy father-land,
And if henceforth we seek in vain
Thy cheering smile, and bounteous hand,—
Thou wilt be what thou wast and art,
Where'er thy bark may chance to roam;
And thou wilt keep thine English heart,
And thou wilt love thine English home!
The white cliffs of thy father-land,
And if henceforth we seek in vain
Thy cheering smile, and bounteous hand,—
Thou wilt be what thou wast and art,
Where'er thy bark may chance to roam;
And thou wilt keep thine English heart,
And thou wilt love thine English home!
| The Poems of Winthrop Mackworth Praed | |