GLENORCHY
TALK not to me of Tempe's flowery vale,With fair Glenorchy stretched before my view!If ofitscharms he sung, I would right wellBelieve the Grecian poet's picture true.What were his boasted groves in scent and hueTo lady-birches and the stately pine,The crimsoned heather and the hare-bell blue?Be his the laurel—the red heath be mine!No faun nor dryad here I care to see,More pleased by far to mark the bounding roeSport with his mate behind the forest tree;Nor less the joy when in the glen belowSome milking Hebe sings herluinneagfree,All hearts enchanting by its graceful glow.
TALK not to me of Tempe's flowery vale,With fair Glenorchy stretched before my view!If ofitscharms he sung, I would right wellBelieve the Grecian poet's picture true.What were his boasted groves in scent and hueTo lady-birches and the stately pine,The crimsoned heather and the hare-bell blue?Be his the laurel—the red heath be mine!No faun nor dryad here I care to see,More pleased by far to mark the bounding roeSport with his mate behind the forest tree;Nor less the joy when in the glen belowSome milking Hebe sings herluinneagfree,All hearts enchanting by its graceful glow.
TALK not to me of Tempe's flowery vale,With fair Glenorchy stretched before my view!If ofitscharms he sung, I would right wellBelieve the Grecian poet's picture true.What were his boasted groves in scent and hueTo lady-birches and the stately pine,The crimsoned heather and the hare-bell blue?Be his the laurel—the red heath be mine!No faun nor dryad here I care to see,More pleased by far to mark the bounding roeSport with his mate behind the forest tree;Nor less the joy when in the glen belowSome milking Hebe sings herluinneagfree,All hearts enchanting by its graceful glow.
TALK not to me of Tempe's flowery vale,
With fair Glenorchy stretched before my view!
If ofitscharms he sung, I would right well
Believe the Grecian poet's picture true.
What were his boasted groves in scent and hue
To lady-birches and the stately pine,
The crimsoned heather and the hare-bell blue?
Be his the laurel—the red heath be mine!
No faun nor dryad here I care to see,
More pleased by far to mark the bounding roe
Sport with his mate behind the forest tree;
Nor less the joy when in the glen below
Some milking Hebe sings herluinneagfree,
All hearts enchanting by its graceful glow.