Bridlington.
WILTSHIRE ABROAD AND AT HOME.
To the Editor.
There is a land, of every land the pride,
Beloved by heaven o’er all the world beside,
Where brighter suns dispense serener light,
And milder moons emparadise the night.
A land of beauty, virtue, valour, truth,
Time-tutor’d age, and love-exalted youth;
The wandering mariner, whose eye explores
The wealthiest isles, the most enchanting shores,
Views not a realm so beautiful and fair,
Nor breathes the spirit of a purer air;
In every clime the magnet of his soul,
Touch’d by remembrance, trembles to that pole.
For in this land of heaven’s peculiar grace,
The heritage of Nature’s noblest race,
There is a spot of earth, supremely blest,
A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest;
Where man, creation’s tyrant, casts aside
His sword and sceptre, pageantry and pride;
While in his softened looks benignly blend
The sire, the son, the husband, brother, friend.
Here woman reigns—the mother, daughter, wife,
Strews with fresh flowers the narrow way of life;
In the clear heaven of her delightful eye
An angel guard of loves, and graces lie;
Around her knees domestic duties meet,
And fireside pleasures gambol at her feet.