Kilmeny shall smile in eternal bloom!”
They bore her away, she wist not how,
For she felt not arm nor rest below;
But so swift they wained her through the light,
’T was like the motion of sound or sight;
They seemed to split the gales of air,
And yet nor gale nor breeze was there.
Unnumbered groves below them grew,
They came, they past, and backward flew,
like floods of blossoms gliding on,