O that some Minstrel's harp were near,
To utter notes[37] of gladness,
And chase this silence from the air,
That fills my heart with sadness!
Yet why?—a silvery current flows
With uncontrolled meanderings;
Nor have these eyes by greener hills
Been soothed, in all my wanderings.
And, through her depths,[38] Saint Mary's Lake
Is visibly delighted;