The Hills of Scotia
Ye hills of Scotia, by whose winding sides
The brawling stream of Esk so swiftly flows
On whose wild banks a varied forest grows
And the birch vibrates as the current glides,
While over your crags the rack incessant glides,
Athwart the steeps a moving mantle throws,
Or like that pillar vast, majestic goes
Which marshalled Israel through Egyptian tides:
O take me to your calm retreats again!
Even in such scenes, amid your gloom, I find
A ray of pensive hope to cheer my mind,
That heavenly mercies brighter hours ordain:
For see, though storms blacken the vale below,
The auspicious bow on high in rich prismatic glow.
Ye hills of Scotia, by whose winding sides
The brawling stream of Esk so swiftly flows
On whose wild banks a varied forest grows
And the birch vibrates as the current glides,
While over your crags the rack incessant glides,
Athwart the steeps a moving mantle throws,
Or like that pillar vast, majestic goes
Which marshalled Israel through Egyptian tides:
O take me to your calm retreats again!
Even in such scenes, amid your gloom, I find
A ray of pensive hope to cheer my mind,
That heavenly mercies brighter hours ordain:
For see, though storms blacken the vale below,
The auspicious bow on high in rich prismatic glow.