ON THE SIGHT OF A MANSE IN THE SOUTH OF SCOTLAND

Say, ye far-travelled clouds, far-seeing hills —

Among the happiest-looking homes of men

Scatter'd all Britain over, through deep glen,

On airy upland, and by forest rills,

And o'er wide plains cheered by the lark that trills

His sky-born warblings— does aught meet your ken

More fit to animate the Poet's pen,

Aught that more surely by its aspect fills

Pure minds with sinless envy, than the Abode

Of the good Priest: who, faithful through all hours

To his high charge, and truly serving God,

Has yet a heart and hand for trees and flowers,

Enjoys the walks his predecessors trod,

Nor covets lineal rights in lands and towers.