The poetical works of John Nicholson ... Carefully edited from the original editions, with additional notes and a sketch of his life and writings. By W. G. Hird |
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 | The poetical works of John Nicholson |  |
Firm fixed near, like the great throne of Jove,
Stands, rudely great, old Malham's lofty Cove,
From whence, in storms, the bursting streams are hurled,
Met by the winds, to misty vapours whirled.
Here the brave Percies, foremost in the chase,
Were followed by the sons of Clifford's race;
Listers and Tempests, on the jocund morn,
Obeyed the cheerful summons of the horn;
Malhams and Martons, on their hunters fleet,
Scattered the moorland moss beneath their feet,—
Rode down the rocky hills with rapid force,
And still undaunted held their ardent course,
While nodding antlers of the mountain deer
Topped the high hills,—the hounds, the hunters near;
Next took the vale, and with ambition tried
Which rider durst o'erleap Aire's infant tide.
The shepherds in the valley left their flocks,
Climbed the high hills, and shouted on the rocks.
But, oh! how soon does human greatness fall!
What years has ruin dwelt in Clifford's hall!
The lord, the baron, and the warrior still,
And mute the horn on Elso's lofty hill!
Stands, rudely great, old Malham's lofty Cove,
From whence, in storms, the bursting streams are hurled,
Met by the winds, to misty vapours whirled.
Here the brave Percies, foremost in the chase,
Were followed by the sons of Clifford's race;
Listers and Tempests, on the jocund morn,
Obeyed the cheerful summons of the horn;
Malhams and Martons, on their hunters fleet,
Scattered the moorland moss beneath their feet,—
Rode down the rocky hills with rapid force,
And still undaunted held their ardent course,
While nodding antlers of the mountain deer
Topped the high hills,—the hounds, the hunters near;
Next took the vale, and with ambition tried
Which rider durst o'erleap Aire's infant tide.
The shepherds in the valley left their flocks,
Climbed the high hills, and shouted on the rocks.
But, oh! how soon does human greatness fall!
What years has ruin dwelt in Clifford's hall!
The lord, the baron, and the warrior still,
And mute the horn on Elso's lofty hill!
| The poetical works of John Nicholson | |