| |
| I KNOW a lake where the cool waves break, | |
| And softly fall on the silver sand; | |
| And no steps intrude on that solitude, | |
| And no voice, save mine, disturbs the strand. | |
| |
| And a mountain bold, like a giant of old | 5 |
| Turned to stone by some magic spell, | |
| Uprears in might his misty height, | |
| And his craggy sides are wooded well. | |
| |
| In the midst doth smile a little isle, | |
| And its verdure shames the emerald’s green; | 10 |
| On its grassy side, in ruined pride, | |
| A castle of old is darkling seen. | |
| |
| On its lofty crest the wild cranes nest, | |
| In its halls the sheep good shelter find; | |
| And the ivy shades where a hundred blades | 15 |
| Were hung, when the owners in sleep reclined. | |
| |
| That chieftain of old, could he now behold | |
| His lordly tower a shepherd’s pen, | |
| His corpse, long dead, from its narrow bed | |
| Would rise with anger and shame again. | 20 |
| |
| ’T is sweet to gaze when the sun’s bright rays | |
| Are cooling themselves in the trembling wave, | |
| But ’t is sweeter far when the evening star | |
| Shines like a smile at Friendship’s grave. | |
| |
| There the hollow shells through their wreathed cells | 25 |
| Make music on the silent shore, | |
| As the summer breeze, through the distant trees, | |
| Murmurs in fragrant breathings o’er. | |
| |
| And the seaweed shines, like the hidden mines, | |
| Or the fairy cities beneath the sea; | 30 |
| And the wave-washed stones are bright as the thrones | |
| Of the ancient Kings of Araby. | |
| |
| If it were my lot in that fairy spot | |
| To live forever, and dream ’t were mine, | |
| Courts might woo, and kings pursue, | 35 |
| Ere I would leave thee, loved Loch-Ine. | |
| |
