Metrical tales, and other poems; - Electric Scotland

THE HILLS WHEKE I WAS BOEN ; OE, A VOICE FROM THE WEST. 189
The gamesome lambs, the grazing herds,
The fields of waving corn
I see them all,
as when I trode
The hUls where I was born,
I left my hills long years ago.
My friends and cottage home,
And crossed the broad Atlantic waves,
In western lands to roam
Where lordly plains extend afar.
And stately forests rise ;
Where giant rivers roll their floods.
And mountains pierce the skies.
And I have shivered in the blast,
And sweaten in the sun ;
And by my own unaided arm
The stranger's gold have won ;
And wealth would win me flattering smiles,
Where cold neglect and scorn
Were all my portion, when I left
The hUls where I was born.
Afar from friends and fatherland,
I see my coming doom
The stranger's hand must lower my head,
,And fill my exile's tomb.
Nor thence shall idle grief be mine,
For bootless 'tis to mourn ;
The' but in death can I forget
The hills where I was bom !