YE swampy falls of pasture ground,
And rushy spreading greens;
Ye rising swells in brambles bound,
And freedom’s wilder’d scenes;
I’ve trod ye oft, and love ye dear,
And kind was fate to let me;
On you I found my all, for here
’Twas first my Patty met me.
Flow on, thou gently plashing stream,
O’er weed-beds wild and rank;
Delighted I’ve enjoy’d my dream
Upon thy mossy bank:
Bemoistening many a weedy stem,
I’ve watched thee wind so clearly;
And on thy bank I found the gem
That makes me love thee dearly.
Thou wilderness, so rudely gay;
Oft as I seek thy plain,
Oft as I wend my steps away,
And meet my joys again,
And brush the weaving branches by
Of briars and thorns so matty;
So oft Reflection warms a sigh,—
Here first I meet my Patty.
PATTY OF THE VALE
WHERE lonesome woodlands close surrounding
Mark the spot a solitude,
And nature’s uncheck’d scenes abounding
Form a prospect wild and rude,
A cottage cheers the spot so glooming,
Hid in the hollow of the dale,
Where, in youth and beauty blooming
Lives sweet Patty of the Vale.
Gay as the lambs her cot surrounding,
Sporting wild the shades among,
O’er the hills and bushes bounding,
Artless, innocent, and young,
Fresh, as blush of morning roses
Ere the mid-day suns prevail,
Fair as lily-bud uncloses,
Blooms sweet Patty of the Vale.
Low and humble though her station,
Dress though mean she’s doom’d to wear,
Few superiors in the nation
With her beauty can compare.
What are riches?—not worth naming,
Though with some they may prevail;
Their’s be choice of wealth proclaiming,
Mine is Patty of the Vale.
Fools may fancy wealth and fortune
Join to make a happy pair,
And for such the god importune,
With full many a fruitless prayer:
I, their pride and wealth disdaining
Should my humble hopes prevail,
Happy then, would cease complaining,
Blest with Patty of the Vale.