‘The Homes of England’ by Felicia Hemans and ‘Lord Randal’ by Anonymous
The Homes of England (1825?) by Felicia Hemans (1793 – 1835)
The stately homes of England,
How beautiful they stand!
Amidst their tall ancestral trees,
O’er all the pleasant land.
The deer across their greensward bound
Through shade and sunny gleam,
And the swan glides past them with the sound
Of some rejoicing stream.
The merry Homes of England!
Around their hearths by night,
What gladsome looks of household love
Meet in the ruddy light!
There woman’s voice flows forth in song,
Or childhood’s tale is told,
Or lips move tunefully along
Some glorious page of old.
The blessed Homes of England!
How softly on their bowers
Is laid the holy quietness
That breathes from Sabbath hours!
Solemn, yet sweet, the church-bell’s chime
Floats through their woods at morn;
All other sounds, in that still time,
Of breeze and leaf are born.
The Cottage Homes of England!
By thousands on her plains,
They are smiling o’er the silvery brooks,
And round the hamlet fanes.
Through glowing orchards forth they peep.
Each from its nook of leaves,
And fearless there the lowly sleep.
As the bird beneath their eaves.
The free, fair Homes of England!
Long, long, in hut and hall,
May hearts of native proof be rear’d
To guard each hallow’d wall!
And green for ever be the groves,
And bright the flowery sod,
Where first the child’s glad spirit loves
Its country and its God!
Lord Randal by Anonymous
“O where ha’ you been, Lord Randal, my son?
And where ha’ you been, my handsome young man?”
“I ha’ been at the greenwood; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I’m wearied wi’ huntin’, and fain wad lie down.”
“And who met ye there, Lord Randal my son?
And who met you there, my handsome young son?”
“O I met wi’ my true-love; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I’m wearied wi’ huntin’, and fain wad lie down”
“And what did she give you, Lord Randal, my son?
And what did she give you, my handsome young man?”
“My hawks and my hounds; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I’m wearied wi’ huntin’, and fain wad lie down.”
“And wha gat your leavin’s, Lord Randal, my son?
And wha gat your leavin’s, my handsome young man?”
“My hawks and my hounds; mother mak my bed soon,
For I’m wearied wi’ huntin’, and fain wad lie down.”
“And what becam of them, Lord Randal, my son?
And what becam of them, my handsome young man?”
“They stretched their legs out and died; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I’m wearied wi’ huntin’, and fain wad lie down.”
“O I fear you are poisoned, Lord Randal my son!
I fear you are poisoned, my handsome young man!”
“O yes, I am poisoned; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I’m sick at heart, and I fain wad lie down.”
“What d’ye leave to your mother, Lord Randal my son?
What d’ye leave to your mother, my handsome young man?”
“Four and twenty milk kye, mother, mak my bed soon,
For I’m sick at heart, and I fain wad lie down.”
“What d’ye leave to your sister, Lord Randal my son?
What d’ye leave to your sister, my handsome young man?”
“My gold and my silver, mother, mak my bed soon,
For I’m sick at heart, and I fain wad lie down.”
“What d’ye leave to your brother, Lord Randal my son?
What d’ye leave to your brother, my handsome young man?”
“My houses and my lands; mak my bed soon,
For I’m sick at heart, and I fain wad lie down.”
“What d’ye leave to your true-love, Lord Randal my son?
What d’ye leave to your true-love, my handsome young man?”
“I leave her hell and fire, mak my bed soon,
For I’m sick at heart, and I fain wad lie down.”
