'Twas the hour o' twell by Ballogie's bell,
When each with her mantle and hood,
They all sallied out in a merry rout,
Away through the still greenwood.
Shine out, shine out, thou silvery maid,
And light them to the place;
But long ere all this play be played,
In sorrow thou'lt hide thy face.
No shadow of this earth ever can
A murkier darkness throw,
Than what from the sin of cruel man
May be cast on thy silvery brow.
The greenwood through, the greenwood through,
Ho! there is Ballogie's meer;
And deep within its breast they view
The moon's face shining clear.
And down they bent, and forward leant--
Loud laughed the sisters three,
As Lillyfair threw back her hair,
Yet could no shadow see.
But is not this an old, old dream--
Some nightmare of the brain?
A splash! and, oh! a wild, wild scream,
And all is still again.
This was the eclipse which the sisters meant
When they would the maid beguile;
For sin has the greater a relish in't
When lurking beneath a smile.
And now the pale-faced moon serene
Shines down on the waters clear,
Where deep, deep among the seggs so green
Lies Ballogie's Lillyfair.
On Ballogie's dam there sails a swan
With wings of snowy white,
But never is seen by the eye of man
Save in the pale moonlight.
Pages:
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117