Oh! when I wander'd far from thee,
I saw thee in my dreams;
I mark'd thy forests waving free,
I heard thy rushing streams.
Thy mighty dead in life came forth,
I knew the honour'd band;
We spoke of thee—thy fame—thy worth—
My high exalted land!
Now if the lonely home be mine
In which my fathers dwelt,
And I can worship at the shrine
Where they in fervour knelt;
No glare of wealth, or honour high,
Shall lure me from thy strand;
Oh, I would yield my parting sigh
In thee, my native land!
A SHEPHERD'S LIFE.
Eliza fair, the mirth of May
Resounds from glen and tree;
Yet thy mild voice, I need not say,
Is dearer far to me.
And while I thus a garland cull,
To grace that brow of thine,
My cup of pure delight is full—
A shepherd's life be mine!
Believe me, maid, the means of wealth,
Howe'er profuse they be,
Produce not pleasure that in health
Is shared by you and me!
'Tis when elate with thoughts of joy
We find a heart like thine,
That objects grateful glad the eye—
A shepherd's life be mine!
O mark, Eliza, how the flowers
Around us sweetly spring;
And list how in these woodland bowers
The birds with rapture sing;
Behold that vale whose streamlet clear
Flows on in waving line;
Can Paradise more bright appear?
A shepherd's life be mine!
Now, dearest, not the morning bright,
That dawns o'er hill and lea,
Nor eve, with all its golden light,
Can charm me without thee.
To feel the magic of thy smile—
To catch that glance of thine—
To talk to thee of love the while,
A shepherd's life be mine!