Poems (Frances Elizabeth Browne)/A Cambrian tour
A CAMBRIAN TOUR.
Together we rambled through Cambria's land,
We sailed along Mersey's broad stream,
We witnessed in nature the beauteous, the grand,
We gazed at the noblest work art ever planned,
Then parted as if 't were a dream.
We sailed along Mersey's broad stream,
We witnessed in nature the beauteous, the grand,
We gazed at the noblest work art ever planned,
Then parted as if 't were a dream.
In scenes which the poet delights to explore,
And the hand of the painter to trace,
Where time has his mantle of ivy thrown o'er
Beaumaris's castle, Caernarvon's proud tower,
Which the birth of a prince was to grace,—
And the hand of the painter to trace,
Where time has his mantle of ivy thrown o'er
Beaumaris's castle, Caernarvon's proud tower,
Which the birth of a prince was to grace,—
In the land of romance, of the mountain and river,
How sweet our brief intercourse grew!
And the thought that when parting we parted for ever,
That in this earthly scene we should meet again never,
A sigh of regret perchance drew.
How sweet our brief intercourse grew!
And the thought that when parting we parted for ever,
That in this earthly scene we should meet again never,
A sigh of regret perchance drew.
To Bangor's fair city our ride was delightful,
But we stopped not the town to survey;
Penmaen Maur's craggy steep frowned tremendously frightful,
But Conway's light fabric looked poor to the sight, full
Of Menai's stupendous display.
But we stopped not the town to survey;
Penmaen Maur's craggy steep frowned tremendously frightful,
But Conway's light fabric looked poor to the sight, full
Of Menai's stupendous display.
From Conway we travelled for twenty long miles,
And arrived, just as night gathered round,
At the vicarage, where we were greeted with smiles,
And a welcome, the warmth of which sweetly beguiles
Fatigue of its weariness, found.
And arrived, just as night gathered round,
At the vicarage, where we were greeted with smiles,
And a welcome, the warmth of which sweetly beguiles
Fatigue of its weariness, found.
Llanberris, thy beauties can scarcel excel
The beauties of Clwydd and Cwm,
Where mountain and rivulet, woodland and dell,
With the sea in the distance, embellishes well
An Eden of brightness and bloom.
The beauties of Clwydd and Cwm,
Where mountain and rivulet, woodland and dell,
With the sea in the distance, embellishes well
An Eden of brightness and bloom.
Fair Cambria! land of the mountain and rill,
Of heroes and poets of old,
Where the harp poured its sweetness o'er valley and hill,—
Yes! nature's own harmony hallows thee still;
What heart to her music is cold?
Of heroes and poets of old,
Where the harp poured its sweetness o'er valley and hill,—
Yes! nature's own harmony hallows thee still;
What heart to her music is cold?