V.

Nor far some Andalusian saraband

Would sound to many a native roundelay.

But who is he that yet a dearer land

Remembers, over hills and far away?

Green Albyn!1 what though he no more survey

Thy ships at anchor on the quiet shore,

Thy pellochs rolling from the mountain bay,

Thy lone sepulchral cairn upon the moor,

And distant isles that hear the loud Corbrechtan

roar!

VI.

Alas! poor Caledonia's mountaineer,

That want's stern edict e'er, and feudal grief,

Had forc'd him from a home he lov'd so dear!

Yet found he here a home, and glad relief,

■ Scotland, * The great whirlpool of the Western Hebrides.

And plied the beverage from his own fair sheaf,
That fir'd his Highland blood with mickle glee ;
And England sent her men, of men the chief,
Who taught those sires of Empire yet to be,
To plant the tree of life, to plant fair freedom's tree!

VII.

Here was not mingled in the city's pomp
Of life's extremes the grandeur and the gloom;
Judgment awoke not here her dismal tromp,
Nor seal'd in blood a fellow creature's doom,
Nor mourn'd the captive in a living tomb.
One venerable man, beloved of all,
Suffic'd where innocence was yet in bloom,
To sway the strife, that seldom might befall,
And Albert was their judge in patriarchal hall.

VIII.

How rev'rend was the look, serenely aged,
He bore, this gentle Pennsylvanian sire,
Where all but kindly fervors were assuag'd,
Undimm'd by weakness' shade, or turbid ire;
And though amidst the calm of thought entire,
Some high and haughty features might betray
A soul impetuous once, 'twas earthly fire
That fled composure's intellectual ray,

As Ætna's fires grow dim before the rising day.

IX.

I boast no song in magic wonders rife,
But yet, oh Nature! is there nought to prize,
Familiar in thy bosom-scenes of life?

And dwells in daylight truth's salubrious skies

No form with which the soul may sympathise?
Young, innocent, on whose sweet forehead mild
The parted ringlet shone in simplest guise,
An inmate in the home of Albert smil'd,
Or.blest his noonday walk-she was his only child.

The rose of England bloom'd on Gertrude's cheekWhat though these shades had seen her birth, her sire A Briton's independence taught to seek

Far western worlds; and there his household fire

The light of social love did long inspire,
And many a halcyon day he liv'd to see

Unbroken, but by one misfortune dire,

When fate had reft his mutual heart-but she

Was gone-and Gertrude climb'd a widow'd father's

knee.

ΧΙ.

A lov'd bequest, and I may half impart-
To them that feel the strong paternal tie,
How like a new existence to his heart
Uprose that living flow'r beneath his eye,
Dear as she was, from cherub infancy,

From hours when she would round his garden play,

To time when as the rip'ning years went by,

Her lovely mind could culture well repay,

And more engaging grew, from pleasing day to day.

XII.

I may not paint those thousand infant charms;

(Unconscious fascination, undesign'd!)

The orison repeated in his arms,

For God to bless her sire and all mankind;