The Western Shore

Thou lovely land ! where, kindling, throng
Scenes that should breathe the soul of song ;
Home of high hopes that once were mine
Of loftier verse and nobler line !

'Tis past— the quench'd volcano's tide
Sleeps well within the mountain-side ;
Henceforth shall time's cold touch control
The warring Hecla of my soul.

Welcome ! wild rock and lonely shore,
Where round my days dark seas shall roar ;
And thy gray fane, Morwenna, stand
The beacon of the Eternal Land !