What glorious landscape woos the raptured eye,
What heavenly music wakes the raptured ear,
What radiant clouds are floating in the sky,
What gorgeous colours hill and valley wear,
What craggy mountains, and what leafy woods,
What tiny streamlets, and what ocean floods!

Far in the east, the Bass and Berwick Law
Stand bluffly out against the pearly sky,
Their bosoms lashed with waves of silvered snaw,
Their summits lit with hues of orient dye,
Gleaming more brightly 'mid the hazy grey,
That sends the distance twice its length away.

High o'er the Crags the lion rears his mane,
Couchant—regardant Scotland's darling town;
While Braid and Blackford rise amid the plain,
With crests of gold and sides of purple brown;
And cattle browsing in the fields between,
Give life and rural beauty to the scene.

Through foliage green peep villa, grange, and spire,
The Napier's peel-tower frowning crowns the height,
While towering high, the patriot's soul to fire,
The hoary Castle looms upon the sight—
A monarch seated on a mountain throne,
Recounting doughty deeds of times long gone.

And while these ancient trees so gnarled and gruff,
Recall old times when castled keep was here,
On that tall elm with boughs so high and tough,
Is slung the swing to merry childhood dear;
See how they mount; come down, wild rogues, come down,
You'll ne'er again be fit to live in town.

And on that richly gowan'd grassy holme,
How quietly Hawky chews her flowery food,
While mare and foal through rich white clover roam,
And Grumphy, winking, feeds her squeaking brood;
But, quick away, guard heads, and hands, and arms,
The air grows dark, a noisy bee-hive swarms.

What swarms of happy creatures here are seen,
White-headed varlets group in clusters round,
Ducklings and goslings scamper o'er the green,
Young birds in every bush and brake are found,
And window eaves are thick with nests of clay,
By swallows built to keep ill luck away.

The cackling hens, the duckling's hearty quack,
The house cat's mew, the watch-dog's honest bark,
The pigeon's cooing, and the gosling's clack,
The blackbird's echo to the soaring lark,
The fleet-winged swallows twittering through the air,
All blend harmonious with a scene so fair.

The tidy garden filled with fruits and flowers,
With thriving plants and thrifty curly kale;
The laughter ringing through the leafy bowers,
Of joy and plenty, tell a pleasing tale;
And over all, around, beneath, above,
Creation teems with beauty, life, and love.