NEWCASTLE OLD COUNTRY GENTLEMAN.

From wand'ring in a distant land, An exile had return'd, And when he saw his own dear stream, His heart with pleasure burn'd; The days departed, and their joys, Came bounding to his breast, And thus the feelings of his heart In native strains confess'd:—

Flow on, majestic river, Thy rolling course for ever,— Forget thee will I never, Whatever fate be mine: Oft on thy banks I've wander'd, And on thy beauties ponder'd, Oh! many an hour I've squander'd On thy banks, O bonny Tyne! Flow on, &c. O Tyne! in thy bright flowing, There's magic joy bestowing; I feel thy breezes blowing— Their perfume is divine. Flow on, &c. I've sought thee in the morning, When crimson clouds are burning, And thy green hills adorning— The hills o' bonny Tyne. Flow on, &c. When stormy seas were round me, And distant nations bound me, In memory still I found thee A ray of hope divine. Flow on, &c. Thy valleys lie before me, Thy trees are waving o'er me, My home thou dost restore me On thy bonny banks, O Tyne! Flow on, &c.