Farewell to Elloughton

This fair and sunny afternoon, Upon the green hill’s side Reclined, beneath a shady tree, To view the prospect wide, In varied beauty spread beneath Of woodland, corn-field, dell— I would invoke the Muse to give A poet’s warm farewell!

Farewell to all the rural walks I’ve ta’en with calm delight; Farewell to landscapes richly seen In evening’s golden light; Farewell—the deep dark woodland shade, The meadow’s flowery plain; But yet a farewell full of hope, The hope to meet again.

When man forsakes the crowded town, The loud and bustling mart, Amid the calm of rural scenes To renovate his heart, So peaceful, pure, and sweet around The lovely prospect lies, He feels as if his footsteps trod Again in paradise.

In childhood how we love to play Mid fields and woods and flowers, And ’neath the sunshine wile away Our infancy’s glad hours; And when such scenes in after years Can purest joy impart, It haply proves we yet retain Like innocence of heart!

How fair is Nature’s every scene, Viewed as a work Divine, When pious thought, and filial love, Make each green nook a shrine; The sunlight spreading o’er the land, Seems smiles from Heaven above, The gentle breeze a “still small voice” That whispers of His Love.

And where, to waken pure delight, Or elevate the thought, Can fairer, brighter charms be found, Or more with beauty fraught, Than here, where high and breezy hills O’er look Old Humber’s wave, And view the rich, green, wooded shores That His broad waters lave?

Far o’er the ample plain beneath, Lanes, corn-fields, woodlands lie, Till lost in distant purple hues They mingle with the sky. The lordly seat, the village church, The hamlet, cot and farm, ’Mid shady trees, or open grounds, With varied beauty charm.

O’er Humber’s wide-spread flowing stream, White, gliding sails are seen, Illumined by the sun’s bright rays, Or ’neath some cloudy screen; Whilst all His further shores repeat The brighter, nearer view— More faintly touched, more dimly seen— Arrayed in softest blue.

Here Welton’s richly wooded dale, Or Elloughton’s dark dell, Or Brantingham’s romantic vale, Charm as by magic spell! The song-bird’s note, the bee’s rich hum, The insect’s merry flight, The wild-flowers and the fragrant pines Must all enhance delight!

He who would choose the deep lone wood, Or forest’s tangled shade, The mingled prospect far and wide O’er distant lands displayed; The rural lane, the rustic walk, The cultivated plain, The woodbine or the wild-rose path— His every wish may gain.

In years long gone, I’ve wandered o’er Each nook of this sweet spot, To fill the mind with pictures fair That memory ne’er forgot; And now when all has been reviewed, It glows more fresh and bright And beauteous than in those first hours Of innocent delight.

Farewell, then, rural Elloughton, And each rich scene around! Full oft on Fancy’s pictured page Will all be clearly found; And oft these hours of pleasure pure O’er thought will fondly reign;— Farewell, until thy much-loved walks My footsteps trace again!