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 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
ON RETURNING FROM LONDON. |
|
 | The poetical works of John Nicholson |  |
ON RETURNING FROM LONDON.
How oft the glorious morning broke
On rock-crown'd hills—Time's paintings grey—
When from his bed the lark awoke,
And warbled to the clouds his lay.
On rock-crown'd hills—Time's paintings grey—
When from his bed the lark awoke,
And warbled to the clouds his lay.
The hills rejoice—with glory blush,
Like gold the crystal rivers shine,
The blackbird carols with the thrush,—
Sweet Bingley vale, such scenes are thine;
Like gold the crystal rivers shine,
The blackbird carols with the thrush,—
Sweet Bingley vale, such scenes are thine;
279
And such they were when all its woods
Had bow'd not to the woodman's stroke,
When salmon in its winding floods,
The smooth still deeps to surges broke.
Had bow'd not to the woodman's stroke,
When salmon in its winding floods,
The smooth still deeps to surges broke.
Give me a cot, a garden near,
By kindred silent in the tomb;
Should greatest monarch ask me where,
I'd answer—this shall be my home.
By kindred silent in the tomb;
Should greatest monarch ask me where,
I'd answer—this shall be my home.
The works of art I oft have seen,
The touches of a master's hand,
But never like the hills so green,
Or Alpine rocks of Cumberland.
The touches of a master's hand,
But never like the hills so green,
Or Alpine rocks of Cumberland.
See the pale features of the town,
With all their fine exterior grace,—
Though deck'd with jewels and a crown,
To Yorkshire lasses must give place.
With all their fine exterior grace,—
Though deck'd with jewels and a crown,
To Yorkshire lasses must give place.
Then be content, 'tis always best,
From wives, from neighbours, ne'er remove;
It takes long years to try the breast,
Then who can judge a stranger's love?
From wives, from neighbours, ne'er remove;
It takes long years to try the breast,
Then who can judge a stranger's love?
The eagles mounting to the sun,
While on the rocks the ravens cry,
As goats along the ledges run,
And falcons perch with piercing eye:—
While on the rocks the ravens cry,
As goats along the ledges run,
And falcons perch with piercing eye:—
280
These have we seen, and may we long
Gaze on each native hill and vale;
And listen to the rural song,
And smile to hear our children's tale.
Gaze on each native hill and vale;
And listen to the rural song,
And smile to hear our children's tale.
| The poetical works of John Nicholson | |