Its walls my castle, and its roof a guard,
As from the cloud the forked lightning glared.
Here did I notice first with wond’ring eye,
The rainbow’s beauty, and the bright blue sky;—
The morning sun, or the pale evening star,
The moon’s eclipse, or comet’s sign of war!
Here oft our little tribe have muster’d up,
And from each eye have wiped the crystal drop;—
Each other cheer’d when dark misfortune frown’d,
As we our little fire have circled round!
What each had read, or heard in times before,
Each eager open’d out his little store;—
Of fairy stories, stormy seas, or sands,
Rocks, woods, or caves, or dens in foreign lands,
Enchanted castles, weapons, sceptres, crowns,
Of friars, giants, hermits, smiles and frowns!
Thus oft our lonely evenings pass’d away,
Till glad we welcom’d in the morning ray;—
Ours might have been the cottage of content,
But we an absent Father did lament.
Now wide dispers’d whom nature so endear’d,
No evening song, no conversation’s heard!
The garden walls we did so often climb,
Are desolated by the hand of time!
Oft on yon sunny bank our feet have been,
Or skimm’d the frozen pond upon the green;
Where I may wander now, and sigh alone,
O’er pleasures past, and never to return!
O Land belov’d! Thou still art dear to me!
I still behold a comeliness in thee,
Which to express I cannot language find,
Nor vent the deep emotions of my mind!
Though transient joys have ta’en their lasting flight,
In thee I see a permanent delight,—
A secret sympathy I can’t express,
Which seems to feed the flame of happiness!
But what is best of all, religion thrives,
The desert sings, the work of God revives!
Cold, frozen hearts have felt the melting flame
Of Jesu’s love, and spread abroad the same!