TO
SIR WALTER SCOTT,
OF ABBOTSFORD, BART.
Who persuaded me to resume the present work, which had been thrown aside, on the ground that such labour was its own reward.
Scott, for whom Fame a gorgeous garland weaves,
Who what was scattered to the wasting wind,
As grain too coarse to gather or to bind,
Bad’st me collect and gird in goodly sheaves;
Who what was scattered to the wasting wind,
As grain too coarse to gather or to bind,
Bad’st me collect and gird in goodly sheaves;
If this poor seed hath formed its stalk and leaves,
Transplanted from a softer clime, and pined,
For lack of southern suns, in soil unkind,
Where Ceres or Italian Flora grieves;
Transplanted from a softer clime, and pined,
For lack of southern suns, in soil unkind,
Where Ceres or Italian Flora grieves;
And if some fruit, however dwindled, fill
The doubtful ear, though scant the crop and bare,
(Ah! how unlike the growth of Tuscan hill,
Where the glad harvest springs behind the share[1])
Praise be to thee! who taught me that to till
Was sweet, however paid the peasant’s care.
The doubtful ear, though scant the crop and bare,
(Ah! how unlike the growth of Tuscan hill,
Where the glad harvest springs behind the share[1])
Praise be to thee! who taught me that to till
Was sweet, however paid the peasant’s care.
WILLIAM STEWART ROSE.
- ↑ A second wheat harvest follows closely upon the first in some parts of Tuscany.
