Oh! I Love the Free Air of the Grand Mountain Height
Oh! I love the free air of the grand mountain height,
In its freshness new vigour I find,
It makes life’s warm pulses throb high with delight,
And stimulates body and mind.
Its freedom inspires happy thought and desire,
And the heart cannot fail to rejoice,
As it makes the glad spirit receptive and quick
To translate nature’s eloquent voice.
The sun-illumed firmament royally decked
In pearly-tinged cloudlets of grey,
Framed in exquisite clearness of deep tender blue,
Fit throne for the Monarch of day!
The city below lies in tranquil repose,
Betraying no symptom of life,
Ah! who could suppose at this distance that it
Could be moved by dissension and strife!
For it lies like an innocent, slumbering babe
In the fold of a fond mother’s breast,
Between the fair river that kisses its feet,
And the mountain in well-guarded rest.
Then o’er the St. Lawrence and spanning its flow,
Is Stephenson’s triumph of skill,
The grand bridge that laughs at a kingdom of ice,
Which essays its stern ramparts to kill.
And there like an emerald shrined in mid stream,
Is St. Helen’s bright islet of grace,
Whose trees on the river’s soft waters, delight
To mirror their beautiful face.
Then hurrah! for the mountain, the islet and bridge,
And fair Montreal in their midst,
With her clear sun-lit skies, that bring blessing and health,
For few pleasanter cities exist.