Poems (Campbell)/Address to Zetland
AN ADDRESS TO ZETLAND.
"The land of Cakes[1]" has oft been sung, In many a poet's strain;But never might "the land of Fish" Such proud distinction gain.
Then I will lift the voice of praise; To thee my strains belong;—Thy misty hills, and humid vales, First woke my infant song.
Oft wand'ring by thy sea-beat shore I woo'd the pensive Muse;Nor will the Genii of thy rocks This votive lay refuse.
Long be thy banks, romantic Sound[2]! Industry's happy seat;And long thy fame remember'd be;— First trod by princely feet!
May commerce oft with spreading sail, To Lerwick's coast repair;And gentle peace, on halcyon plume, For ever linger there.
And long the nymphs of Lerwick shine, Devoid of modish art:With beauty deck'd, and ev'ry charm That wins the gallant heart.
And fertile prove your barren fields, Adorn'd with waving grain,Where nought was seen but noisome weeds, And dreary desert plain.
And may that source of half your wealth, The ocean's finny race, Reward the honest fisher's toil, And long your tables grace.
And, oh! ye Zetland lairds be kind, And shield th' industrious poorFrom hard oppression's iron rod, And tyranny of pow'r.
Oh! think how noble 'tis to smooth The couch of want and care;To bid the honest tenant smile, And sweet contentment share.
Oh! think what fond and fervent zeal Shall sanctify your cause,When never forc'd by pining want To break your rigid laws.
How sweet the meed of conscious worth, More dear than public fame!How sweet the blessings that repose Upon a good man's name!
Then rule with mercy—so shall Heav'n Your fondest wishes speed;And joy, and peace, and plenty reign From Scaw[3] to Sumburghead[4].
Oh! Laxford, dear! thy barren hills Fond mem'ry still must love;To thee my wand'ring fancy turns, Where'er my footsteps rove.
Oh! scenes by happy childhood bless'd, When grief was all unknown—But dearer now, and treasur'd more, Your joys for ever flown.
'Twas there, oh, Scott! thy presence cheer'd Thine hospitable hall;'Twas there thou gav'st with friendly smile A welcome unto all.
Beneath thy roof each wand'rer found A refuge from the storm;And frequent hast thou shelter'd there The orphan's trembling form.
Now in the cold and silent tomb Thy mould'ring dust is laid,And yet no marble stone is rear'd To point thy lowly bed.
But, oh! within the grateful breast Thy mem'ry long shall dwell;Nor ask of art its feeble aid, Thy honour'd name to tell.
And thou whom sorrow's chilling breath Destroy'd in beauty's bloom,How oft shall friendship's sacred tear Bedew thy early tomb!
Oh, Isabella! ever dear, How oft has fancy rov'dWith thee by Laxford's moonlight stream, And all the haunts we lov'd!
With thee I never more shall rove By Laxford's bounding wave—Thy spirit sought its kindred skies, Thy form its peaceful grave.
When o'er thy bed a husband hung, And dropt the fruitless tear;When thy lov'd infant's feeble voice Rung on thy dying ear;
With all the eloquence of sighs, And all the warmth of pray'r,The kneeling friends around thy bed Besought of Heav'n to spare.—
'Twas vain—thy blameless course was run, The blow of death was giv'n;And angels hover'd o'er thy head, To waft thy soul to heav'n.
Adieu to thee, and all the friends That happy childhood knew;—By absence some, yet more by death, Snatch'd sudden from my view!
And Laxford's winding stream, adieu! Adieu, thy sea-beach wild,Where oft I've rov'd with careless feet, Untutor'd nature's child!
I dream'd not that a fairer spot On earth's broad bosom lay;Nor ever wish'd my wand'ring feet Beyond its bounds to stray.
And when I read of fairer fields Beyond the northern main;And tow'ring trees, whose leafy arms Spread o'er the flow'ry plain;
Of rivers, through the verdant vale Meandering smooth and clear;Or where cascades their torrents dash O'er precipices drear:
I read—and fancy cloth'd thy steps With darkling groves of pine;Bright bloom'd thy flow'rs, smooth flow'd thy streams, And ev'ry charm was thine.
Soft on the weedy sea-beach stole The wave with murmur low;And o'er the undulating tide Serener zephyrs blow.
And there the moon, in radiance pale, Her mildest lustre threw;Silv'ring the rocks of Tuinna-taing, And Ocean's bosom blue.
The fields of Hammerslain were gay With flow'rs of simple dye;And primrose there and daisy bloom'd Beneath a brighter sky.
Oh, Laxford! once my happy home, Farewell thy rocky shore!The wand'rer that has fled from thee Returns, alas! no more.
Oh! Hammerslain's romantic fields, Take, take my last farewell!—Another now shall rove your banks, And in Scott's-Hall shall dwell;
Another now shall nurse the flow'rs I rear'd with anxious care;Another range the sandy beach, And cull the sea-shells there.
Another, by the burn reclin'd, O'er some sad tale shall weep;Or list'ning to its murm'ring voice, Be softly lull'd to sleep.
Another now by Severspool At purple dawn shall stray,And on the mossy ward-hill[5] mark The sportive lambkins play.
Farewell, ye scenes of dear delight, A long, a last adieu!For never more your distant charms These aching eyes shall view.
And, Laxford! thou my once lov'd home, A long farewell to thee—The blissful hour of sweet return Shall never smile on me!
Yet mem'ry oft with pious tear, As changing seasons roll,Shall consecrate thy parted joys, And bind thee to my soul.
- ↑ A name frequently applied to Scotland
- ↑ A beautiful spot, near the town of Lerwick; the property of Mr. Nicholson, of Lochend. It was here, according to tradition, that some Norwegian prince, of high celebrity, formerly landed.
- ↑ Scaw, in Urst, the most northern of the Zetland isles.
- ↑ Sumburghead, the southernmost point of Zetland.
- ↑ Many of the high hills in Zetland, upon which are yet to be seen the ruins of ancient watch towers, are thus denominated by the inhabitants.