The Savoyard's Return

by Henry Kirke White

Oh! yonder is the well known spot,
   My dear, my long lost native home!
Oh, welcome is yon little cot,
   Where I shall rest, no more to roam!
Oh! I have travell’d far and wide,
   O’er many a distant foreign land;
Each place, each province I have tried.
   And sung and danced my saraband.
      But all their charms could not prevail
      To steal my heart from yonder vale.

Of distant climes the false report
   It lured me from my native land;
It bade me rove—my sole support
   My cymbals and my saraband.
The woody dell, the hanging rock,
   The chamois skipping o’er the heights;
The plain adorn’d with many a flock,
   And, oh! a thousand more delights,
      That grace yon dear beloved retreat,
      Have backward won my weary feet.

Now safe return’d, with wandering tired,
   No more my little home I’ll leave;
And many a tale of what I’ve seen
   Shall while away the winter’s eve.
Oh! I have wandered far and wide,
   O’er many a distant foreign land;
Each place, each province I have tried,
   And sung and danced my saraband;
      But all their charms could not prevail
      To steal my heart from yonder vale.