The beauteous Maid of Colonsay,
Her eyes are milder than the dove!
“Even now, within the lonely isle,
Her eyes are dim with tears for me;
And canst thou think that siren smile
Can lure my soul to dwell with thee?”
An oozy film her limbs o’erspread;
Unfolds in length her scaly train:
She tossed, in proud disdain, her head,