Then Kilmeny begged again to see
The friends she had left in her ain countrye,
To tell of the place where she had been,
And the glories that lay in the land unseen.
With distant music soft and deep,
They lulled Kilmeny sound asleep;
And when she awakened, she lay her lane,
All happed with flowers in the greenwood wene
When seven lang years had come and fled,
When grief was calm and hope was dead,
When scarce was remembered Kilmeny's name.
Late, late in the gloamin Kilmeny came hame!
And oh! her beauty was fair to see,
But still and steadfast was her ee;
Such beauty bard may never declare,
For there was no pride nor passion there;
And the soft desire of maiden's een,
In that mild face could never be seen.
Her seyman was the lily flower,
And her cheek the moss-rose in the shower;
And her voice like the distant melodye,
That floats along the twilight sea.
But she loved to range the lanely glen,
And keeped afar frae the haunts of men,
Her holy hymns unheard to sing,
To suck the flowers and drink the spring;
But wherever her peaceful form appeared,
The wild beasts of the hill were cheered;
The wolf played blithely round the field,
The lordly bison lowed and kneeled,
The dun deer wooed with manner bland,
And cowered aneath her lily hand.
And when at eve the woodlands rung,
When hymns of other worlds she sung,
In ecstacy of sweet devotion,
Oh, then the glen was all in motion;
The wild beasts of the forest came,
Broke from their bughts and faulds the tame,
And gooed around, charmed and amazed;
Even the dull cattle crooned and gazed,
And murmured and looked with anxious pain
For something the mystery to explain.
The buzzard came with the throstle cock;
The corby left her houf in the rock;
The blackbird along with the eagle flew;
The hind came tripping o'er the dew;
The wolf and the kid their raike began,
And the tod, and the lamb, and the leveret ran;
The hawk and the hern attour them hung,
And the merl and the mavis forhooyed[178] their young;
And all in a peaceful ring were hurled:
It was like an eve in a sinless world!
When a month and a day had come and gane,
Kilmeny sought the greenwood wene,
There laid her down on the leaves so green,
And Kilmeny, on earth was never mair seen!
The close of "The Queen's Wake" is graceful and touching.
Now my loved harp a while farewell;
I leave thee on the old gray thorn;
The evening dews will mar thy swell
That waked to joy the cheerful morn.
Farewell, sweet soother of my woe,
Chill blows the blast around my head;
And louder yet that blast may blow,
When down this weary vale I've sped.
The wreath lies on St. Mary's shore;
The mountain sounds are harsh and loud;
The lofty brows of stern Clokmore
Are visored with the moving cloud.
But winter's deadly hues shall fade
On moorland bald and mountain shaw,
And soon the rainbow's lovely shade
Sleep on the breast of Bowerhope Law;
Then will the glowing suns of spring,
The genial shower and stealing dew,
Wake every forest bird to sing,
And every mountain flower renew.
But not the rainbow's ample ring,
That spans the glen and mountain gray
Though fanned by western breeze's wing,
And sunned by summer's glowing ray,
To man decayed can ever more
Renew the age of love and glee!
Can ever second spring restore
To my old mountain harp and me.
But when the hue of softened spring
Spreads over hill and lonely lea,
And lowly primrose opes unseen,
Her virgin bosom to the bee;