Volume Vi Part 33 (2/2)

Sweet the rising mountains, &c.

What were all the splendour of the proud and great, To the simple pleasures of our green retreat?

From the crystal spring fresh vigour we inhale, Rosy health does court us on the mountain gale.

Sweet the rising mountains, &c.

Were I offer'd all the wealth that Albion yields, All her lofty mountains and her fruitful fields, With the countless riches of her subject seas, I would scorn the change for blisses such as these!

Sweet the rising mountains, red with heather bells, Sweet the bubbling fountains and the dewy dells, Sweet the snowy blossom of the th.o.r.n.y tree, Sweeter is young Mary of Glensmole to me.

EVAN M'COLL.[16]

FOOTNOTES:

[16] For Biographical Sketch, see p. 222.

THE CHILD OF PROMISE.

She died--as die the roses On the ruddy clouds of dawn, When the envious sun discloses His flame, and morning 's gone.

She died--like waves of sun-glow Fast by the shadows chased: She died--like heaven's rainbow By gus.h.i.+ng showers effaced.

She died--like flakes appearing On the sh.o.r.e beside the sea; Thy snow as bright! but, nearing, The ground-swell broke on thee.

She died--as dies the glory Of music's sweetest swell: She died--as dies the story When the best is still to tell.

She died--as dies moon-beaming When scowls the rayless wave: She died--like sweetest dreaming, That hastens to its grave.

She died--and died she early: Heaven wearied for its own.

As the dipping sun, my Mary, Thy morning ray went down!

INDEX

TO THE

FIRST LINES OF THE SONGS.

A bonnie rose bloom'd wild and fair, vol. iv., 112.

Adieu--a long and last adieu, vol. iii., 207.

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