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Yet well I love that rocky strand.
That proudly fair Northumberland;
For there, amid their mountains wild,
Your venerable parents smil'd;
There, still to kindred friendship true,
My noble cousins first I knew;
And with a sister's love was prest,
Sweet Mary! to thy glowing breast;
There, too, the last and dearest tie,
My father op'd his infant eye;
Play'd on those hills, a sportive boy,
And found the day too short for joy.
And oft parental fondness told,
The treasur'd tales of days of old;
Oft Tyne's fair banks his mem'ry drew,
For well those pleasant banks he knew;
Knew where the fairest flow'rets spread,
And where the timid bullfinch bred,—
And ever with the landscape gay,
Mix'd tales of childhood's happy day;
That proudly fair Northumberland;
For there, amid their mountains wild,
Your venerable parents smil'd;
There, still to kindred friendship true,
My noble cousins first I knew;
And with a sister's love was prest,
Sweet Mary! to thy glowing breast;
There, too, the last and dearest tie,
My father op'd his infant eye;
Play'd on those hills, a sportive boy,
And found the day too short for joy.
And oft parental fondness told,
The treasur'd tales of days of old;
Oft Tyne's fair banks his mem'ry drew,
For well those pleasant banks he knew;
Knew where the fairest flow'rets spread,
And where the timid bullfinch bred,—
And ever with the landscape gay,
Mix'd tales of childhood's happy day;
