Than all thy happiness.”
Hath the summer’s breath on the south-wind borne,
Met the dark seas in their sweeping scorn?
Hath it lured thee, bird! from their sounding caves
To the river shores where the osier waves?
Or art thou come on the hills to dwell,
Where the sweet-voiced echoes have many a cell?
Where the moss bears print of the wild-deer’s tread,
And the heath like a royal robe is spread?
Thou hast done well, O thou bright sea-bird!