Page:The poetical works of Thomas Campbell.djvu/137

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Men from the blood of warring Europe sprungWere but divided by the running brook;And happy where no Rhenish trumpet sung,On plains no sieging mine's volcano shook,The blue-eyed German changed his sword to pruning-hook.
V.Nor far some Andalusian sarabandWould sound to many a native roundelay—But who is he that yet a dearer landRemembers, over hills and far away?Green Albin[1]! what though he no more surveyThy ships at anchor on the quiet shore,Thy pellochs[2] rolling from the mountain bay,Thy lone sepulchral cairn upon the moor,And distant isles that hear the loud Corbrechtan[3] roar!
VI.Alas! poor Caledonia's mountaineer,That want's stern edict e'er, and feudal grief,Had forced him from a home he loved so dear!Yet found he here a home, and glad relief,And plied the beverage from his own fair sheaf,That fired his Highland blood with mickle glee:And England sent her men, of men the chief,Who taught those sires of Empire yet to be,To plant the tree of life,—to plant fair Freedom's tree!
  1. ↑ Scotland.
  2. ↑ The Gaelic appellation for the porpoise.
  3. ↑ The great whirlpool of the Western Hebrides.
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