 | Songs of the Seasons |  |
162
TWEED AND ITS PROSPECTS.
I
River of all rivers, dearestTo the Scottish heart—to ours!
River without shade of rival,
Rolling crystals, nursing flowers,
II
Stirring up the soul of music,Chaunting, warbling, luting, chiming,
To the poet's ardent fancy,
Adept in the art of rhyming;
III
Marching onward through thy valleyWith the bearing of a king,
From the hundred hills surrounding
All thy vassals summoning!
IV
Of our Rivers still the Glory!God defend it! there is need,
For the Demon of Pollution
Campeth on the banks of Tweed.
163
V
See the tents of the Invader!How they spread on every hand,
Pitched by devilish intuition
O'er the marrow of the land!
VI
In the fairest of its meadows,In its gardens of desire—
On its Bo-peeps and Blink-bonnies—
On its terraces of Fire,
VII
Where were fought the Fights of Freedom,And the stirring Songs were sung,
Which the heart and arm of Scotland
Moved as with a trumpet tongue.
VIII
Count the forces of the Upstart,Smoke-begrimmed and dimly seen
On and under the horizon,
Blackening the blue and green.
IX
Idle task! they multiplyFaster than the pen can score,
Legion crowding upon legion,
Like the waves that scourge the shore.
164
X
Read the motto on their Banner:Self and Pelf! so apt the scroll;
Not an apter on the Headstone,
Nor on knightly bannerol.
XI
Pelf and Self! the double Demon!From its clutch, good God, deliver!
Save from taint of the defiler,
Saviour! save our dearest River!
XII
For the Life-blood of our ValleysWe entreat on bended knee!
For the Queen of Nursing Mothers,
God! defend her chastity!
| Songs of the Seasons | |