Hew Morrison Collection > Minor poems, and translations, in verse

Thy lofty hills, majestic piled,
Were else tremendous, dark, and wild,
But for the bland fertility
That beautifies their majesty ;
And varied hues of verdure blent
On terrace, vale, and battlement,
Beguiling with a warm embrace
And kind — like maiden loveliness
That fondles with an angry sire,
And turns to love his wildest ire.
Thy lake, methinks, a tranquil tide
Assumed by Nature in her pride,
To image, in its varied blue,
The fairest sky she ever drew !
The blooming mead, and mossy cell.
The vineyard rich, and golden dell,
Proclaim that all the seasons smile
To bless the happy Switzer's toil.
I envy not his heart who roams
Afar from these delightful homes,
Where peace presides in hut and hall.
With heavenly freedom crowning all !