Part 2 — ALL HAIL, MY GENTLE HOUSEHOLD LAR

All hail, my gentle household Lar! My silent mansion ’mid the trees! My devious steps have wandered far, O’er lands of Eld beyond the seas. Amid thine autumn fields I hear, Prophet of rain, the whistling quail; While from its sheaf the wheaten ear Is beaten by the sounding flail. In other climes this quiet home Has risen star-like to my view, When tired, dejected, and alone, No friendly heart my sorrows knew. ’Twas years ago the passion came, A vague desire, a longing wild To visit lands, whose wondrous fame Had charmed my fancy when a child. When dreamy south winds softly blew In spring time o’er the misty glebe, And birds of passage wedge-like flew To distant lake and arctic mead, I felt the longing uncontrolled, The yearning wish to be away, Where splendid cities rich and old In happier climates glittering lay. Their towers have filled my sated eyes, Their sins and follies all are known, With quickened step the pilgrim hies To greet once more his long-left home. O silent house! O breezy shade! Haven of rest and refuge sweet! The great world’s din can ne’er invade Thy lonely courts, my green retreat! Like Sirmio’s minstrel travel-worn, My own soft couch at length I press, And thinking o’er the toils I’ve borne, Forget in sleep my weariness.