Go sit old Cheviot's crest below, And pensive mark the lingering snow In all his scaurs abide, And slow dissolving from the hill In many a sightless, soundless rill, Feed sparkling Bowmont's tide. Fair shines the stream by bank and lea, As wimpling to the eastern sea She seeks Till's sullen bed, Indenting deep the fatal plain, Where Scotland's noblest, brave in vain, Around their monarch bled. And westward hills on hills you see, Even as old Ocean's mightiest sea Heaves high her waves of foam, Dark and snow-ridged from Cutsfeld's wold To the proud foot of Cheviot roll'd, Earth's mountain billows come. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO MY HONOURED FRIEND DR. CHARLETON by JOHN DRYDEN THE TERRIBLE SONNETS: 3 by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: LUCINDA MATLOCK by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SONNET: 11 by RICHARD BARNFIELD |