486 RAMBLES OF A GEOLOGIST. 



The pyramid, where sea-birds scream, 



Aloft in middle air, 

 The Druid temple on the heath, 

 Old even beyond tradition's birth. 



Though I have roamed through verdant glades, 

 In cloudless climes, 'neath azure skies, 

 Or pluck' d from beauteous orient meads, 



Flowers of celestial dies, 

 Though I have laved iu limpid streams, 

 That murmur over golden sands, 

 Or basked amid the fulgid beams 



That flame o'er fairer lands, 

 Or stretched me in the sparry grot, 

 My country ! THOU wert ne'er forgot. 



END OF RAMBLES OF A GEOLOGIST. 



