The Legend of Genevieve with other tales and poems. By Delta [i.e. David Macbeth Moir] |
 |
THE
EMIGRANTS' FAREWELL. |
 |
|
 | The Legend of Genevieve |  |
92
THE EMIGRANTS' FAREWELL.
Green Albyn, farewell! though by us never more
Should be welcomed the hills that encircle thy shore;
Though to far distant worlds 'tis our fortune to roam,
Still to thee shall we look, as the land of our home!
Should be welcomed the hills that encircle thy shore;
Though to far distant worlds 'tis our fortune to roam,
Still to thee shall we look, as the land of our home!
Green Albyn, farewell! though thou fadest on our sight,
Are the deeds of our fathers not written in light?
And cannot the tones of the pibroch display
How they march'd to the field, how they won in the fray?
Are the deeds of our fathers not written in light?
And cannot the tones of the pibroch display
How they march'd to the field, how they won in the fray?
Green Albyn, farewell! though to us be not given
For our country to strive, as our fathers have striven,
'Tween their ashes and us, though may roll the dark sea,
Still their spirit is ours, and our hearts are with thee.
For our country to strive, as our fathers have striven,
'Tween their ashes and us, though may roll the dark sea,
Still their spirit is ours, and our hearts are with thee.
93
Green Albyn, farewell! though the glens of our pride,
Through the mist of the morn, shall no more be descried,
Nor the deer on the hill; nor the cairn on the moor;
Nor the chief in the hall,—we are thine as of yore!
Through the mist of the morn, shall no more be descried,
Nor the deer on the hill; nor the cairn on the moor;
Nor the chief in the hall,—we are thine as of yore!
Green Albyn, farewell! when our footsteps shall stray
On the banks where Lake Erie expands to the day,
In our bonnets the rough-bearded thistle shall twine,
And be dear to our souls, as a symbol of thine!
On the banks where Lake Erie expands to the day,
In our bonnets the rough-bearded thistle shall twine,
And be dear to our souls, as a symbol of thine!
Green Albyn, farewell! to thy rocks, to thy rills,
To the eagles that build on the crest of thy hills,
To the lake, to the forest, the moor and the dell,
To thee, and thy children, green Albyn, farewell!
To the eagles that build on the crest of thy hills,
To the lake, to the forest, the moor and the dell,
To thee, and thy children, green Albyn, farewell!
| The Legend of Genevieve | |