| |
| THESE hills, the pride of all the coast, | |
| To mighty distance seen, | |
| With aspect bold and rugged brow, | |
| That shade the neighboring main; | |
| These heights, for solitude designed, | 5 |
| This rude, resounding shore, | |
| These vales impervious to the wind, | |
| Tall oaks, that to the tempest bend, | |
| Half Druid, I adore. | |
| |
| From distant lands a thousand sails | 10 |
| Your hazy summits greet,— | |
| You saw the angry Briton come, | |
| You saw him, last, retreat! | |
| With towering crest, you first appear | |
| The news of land to tell; | 15 |
| To him that comes, fresh joys impart, | |
| To him that goes, a heavy heart, | |
| The lover’s long farewell. | |
| |
| ’T is yours to see the sailor bold, | |
| Of persevering mind, | 20 |
| To see him rove in search of care, | |
| And leave true bliss behind; | |
| To see him spread his flowing sails | |
| To trace a tiresome road, | |
| By wintry seas and tempests chased, | 25 |
| To see him o’er the ocean haste, | |
| A comfortless abode! | |
| |
| Your thousand springs of waters blue | |
| What luxury to sip, | |
| As from the mountain’s breast they flow | 30 |
| To moisten Flora’s lip! | |
| In vast retirements herd the deer, | |
| Where forests round them rise, | |
| Dark groves, their tops in ether lost, | |
| That, haunted still by Huddy’s ghost, | 35 |
| The trembling rustic flies. | |
| |
| Proud heights! with pain so often seen | |
| (With joy beheld once more), | |
| On your firm base I take my stand, | |
| Tenacious of the shore: | 40 |
| Let those who pant for wealth or fame | |
| Pursue the watery road; | |
| Soft sleep and ease, blest days and nights, | |
| And health, attend these favorite heights, | |
| Retirement’s blest abode! | 45 |
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