SONNET,ON BEING REQUESTED TO WRITE ON SCOTTISH SCENERY.
Fair art thou, Scotia! The swift mountain stream
Gushes, with deaf'ning roar and whit'ning spray,
From thy brown hills; where eagles seek their prey,
Or soar, undazzled, in the solar beam.
But, dearer far to me, be thou my theme,
My native Hampshire! Thy sweet vallies gay,
Trees, spires, and cots, that in the brilliant ray
Confus'dly glitter, like a morning dream.
Gushes, with deaf'ning roar and whit'ning spray,
From thy brown hills; where eagles seek their prey,
Or soar, undazzled, in the solar beam.
But, dearer far to me, be thou my theme,
My native Hampshire! Thy sweet vallies gay,
Trees, spires, and cots, that in the brilliant ray
Confus'dly glitter, like a morning dream.
