University of Virginia Library


100

The Westmoreland Emigrant

From Death to Life the silent plain
Is changed by magic powers,
And merrily the bullock-wain
Moves axle-deep in flowers.
But I would be where sound is heard,
Where Sour-milk ghyll is falling,
And thro' the blue-bell copse the bird
Is ‘cuckoo! cuckoo!’ calling.
From fenceless fields in freedom rolled
A wider air we breathe it,
I'd choose the intack and the fold,
The narrow vale beneath it.
Let others for a kingdom take
The treeless prairie ranches,
Give me a glimpse of Rydal Lake,
Seen bright among the branches.

101

Oh! hills and lakes divinely blue,
Oh! mountains black with thunder,
Oh! mists that let the sunshine thro'
Or wrap the valleys under.
Ye bleating brothers of the fern
In lonely mountain places,
How oft with crook and dog I yearn
To see your dappled faces.
Oh! happy times, when on the heights
We sought the sheep for shearing,
Oh! jolly Christmas merry-nights
With song and dance so cheering.
Grey walls that climb the mountain side
Or sink to valleys tender,
Loud streams that shine, and ghylls that hide,
What homage can I render,
Save this, that whereso'er I go,
Till fortune may restore me,
The hills of Westmoreland I know,
Shall always rise before me?