Walter Chalmers Smith (1824-1908). Glenaradale. Arthur Quiller-Couch, comp. 1922. The Oxford Book of Victorian Verse

Arthur Quiller-Couch, comp. The Oxford Book of Victorian Verse. 1922.

Glenaradale

By Walter Chalmers Smith (1824–1908)


THERE is no fire of the crackling boughs
On the hearth of our fathers,
There is no lowing of brown-eyed cows
On the green meadows,
Nor do the maidens whisper vows	5
In the still gloaming,
Glenaradale.

There is no bleating of sheep on the hill
Where the mists linger,
There is no sound of the low hand-mill	10
Ground by the women,
And the smith’s hammer is lying still
By the brown anvil,
Glenaradale.

Ah! we must leave thee and go away	15
Far from Ben Luibh,
Far from the graves where we hoped to lay
Our bones with our fathers’,
Far from the kirk where we used to pray
Lowly together,	20
Glenaradale.

We are not going for hunger of wealth,
For the gold and silver,
We are not going to seek for health
On the flat prairies,	25
Nor yet for the lack of fruitful tilth
On thy green pastures,
Glenaradale.

Content with the croft and the hill were we,
As all our fathers,	30
Content with the fish in the lake to be
Carefully netted,
And garments spun of the wool from thee,
O black-faced wether
Of Glenaradale!	35

No father here but would give a son
For the old country,
And his mother the sword would have girded on
To fight her battles:
Many ’s the battle that has been won	40
By the brave tartans,
Glenaradale.

But the big-horn’d stag and his hinds, we know,
In the high corries,
And the salmon that swirls in the pool below	45
Where the stream rushes
Are more than the hearts of men, and so
We leave thy green valley,
Glenaradale.