. The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott, baronet; ed. with a careful revision of the text. aterloo , 1S15. STfje iFielti of JHHaterloo. Fair Brussels, thou art far behind,Though, lingering on the morning wind, We yet may hear the hourPealed over orchard and canal,With voice prolonged and measured fall. From proud Saint Michaels tower;Thy wood, dark Soignies, holds us the tall beeches glossy bough For many a league around,With birch and darksome oak between,Spreads deep and far a pathless screen Of tangled forest planted close by stems defy Tlie ad
. The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott, baronet; ed. with a careful revision of the text. aterloo , 1S15. STfje iFielti of JHHaterloo. Fair Brussels, thou art far behind,Though, lingering on the morning wind, We yet may hear the hourPealed over orchard and canal,With voice prolonged and measured fall. From proud Saint Michaels tower;Thy wood, dark Soignies, holds us the tall beeches glossy bough For many a league around,With birch and darksome oak between,Spreads deep and far a pathless screen Of tangled forest planted close by stems defy Tlie adventurous foot — the curious eye For access seeks in vain ;And the brown tapestry of on the blighted ground, receives Nor sun nor air nor opening glade dawns on our way,No streamlet glancing to the ray Our woodland pathhas crossed :And the straight causeway which we treadProlongs a line of dull arcade,Unvarying through the unvaried shade Until in distance lost. A brighter, livelier scene succeeds :In groups the scattering wood recedes, 424 SCOTTS POETICAL Hedge-rows, and huts, and sunny meads. And corn-fields glance between ;The peasant at his labor blithePlies the hooked staff and shortenedscythe : — But when these ears were green,Placed close within destructions scope,Full little was that rustics hope Their ripening to have seen !And, lo ! a hamlet and its fane : —Let not the gazer with disdain Their architecture view;For yonder rude ungraceful shrineAnd disproportioned spire are thine, Immortal Waterloo ! Fear not the heat, though full and highThe sun has scorched the autumn sky,And scarce a forest straggler nowTo shade us spreads a greenwood bough;These fields have seen a hotter dayThan eer was fired by sunny one mile on—yon shattered hedgeCrests the soft hill whose long smooth ridge Looks on the field below,And sinks so gently on the daleThat not the folds of Beautys veil In easier curves can flow. Brief space from thence the
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Keywords: ., bookauthorrolfewjw, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, bookyear1888
