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Written on Revisiting It in 1837
THE TIME I saw thee, Cora, last, | |
| ’T was with congenial friends; | |
| And calmer hours of pleasure past | |
| My memory seldom sends. | |
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| It was as sweet an autumn day | 5 |
| As ever shone on Clyde, | |
| And Lanark’s orchards all the way | |
| Put forth their golden pride; | |
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| Even hedges, busked in bravery, | |
| Looked rich that sunny morn; | 10 |
| The scarlet hip and blackberry | |
| So pranked September’s thorn. | |
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| In Cora’s glen the calm how deep! | |
| That trees on loftiest hill | |
| Like statues stood, or things asleep, | 15 |
| All motionless and still. | |
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| The torrent spoke, as if his noise | |
| Bade earth be quiet round, | |
| And give his loud and lonely voice | |
| A more commanding sound. | 20 |
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| His foam, beneath the yellow light | |
| Of noon, came down like one | |
| Continuous sheet of jaspers bright, | |
| Broad rolling by the sun. | |
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| Dear Linn! let loftier falling floods | 25 |
| Have prouder names than thine; | |
| And king of all, enthroned in woods, | |
| Let Niagara shine. | |
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| Barbarian, let him shake his coasts | |
| With reeking thunders far, | 30 |
| Extended like the array of hosts | |
| In broad, embattled war! | |
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| His voice appalls the wilderness: | |
| Approaching thine, we feel | |
| A solemn, deep melodiousness, | 35 |
| That needs no louder peal. | |
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| More fury would but disenchant | |
| Thy dream-inspiring din; | |
| Be thou the Scottish Muse’s haunt, | |
| Romantic Cora Linn. | 40 |
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