Page:Scenes in my Native Land.pdf/145

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summer-morn doth greet thee cheerily, Stream of my fathers. From the shaded dell Where in thy Highland cradle thou didst take The little water-cup so thankfully, From every nursing rill, on to the scene Of thy rejoicing bridal with the Sea, Where snowy sails from many a region, bear The nuptial dowry, thou hast held thy way, A comforter, and blessing. Full and fair Thou scatterest bounties o'er thy verdant banks, As though thou ne'er hadst known a time of need, Or penury. Yet I remember well When last I saw thee in adversity. Winter had chained thee long, and tardy Spring Shrank, as she whispering warned thy mighty heart To wake and free itself. No trampled realm Came to its battle-hour, more valiantly. Thy prison doors were broken, at the rush