And the thunder it roared o'er the lands and the seas.

The widows wailed, and the red blood ran, And she threatened an end to the race of man;

245

She never lened, nor stood in awe,
Till caught by the lion's deadly paw.
Oh! then the eagle swinked for life,
And brainzelled up a mortal strife;
But flew she north, or flew she south,
She met wi' the gowl o' the lion's mouth.
With a mooted wing and waefu' maen, 250
The eagle sought her eiry again;
But lang may she cower in her bloody nest,
And lang, lang sleek her wounded breast,
Before she sey another flight,

To play wi' the norland lion's might.

But to sing the sights Kilmeny saw,

So far surpassing nature's law,
The singer's voice wad sink away,

255

And the string of his harp wad cease to play. But she saw till the sorrows of man were by,

And all was love and harmony;

Till the stars of heaven fell calmly away,
Like flakes of snaw on a winter day.

260

When seven long years had come and fled, When grief was calm, and hope was dead, Whence scarce was remembered Kilmeny's name,

Late, late in a gloamin' Kilmeny came hame.
And O, her beauty was fair to see,

But still and steadfast was her e'e!
Such beauty bard may never declare,

For there was no pride nor passion there;
And the soft desire of maiden's een

280

290

In that mild face could never be seen. 285
Her seymar was the lily flower,
And her cheek the moss-rose in the shower;
And her voice like the distant melodye,
That floats along the twilight sea.
But she loved to raike the lanely glen,
And keep afar frae the haunts of men,
Her holy hymns unheard to sing,
To suck the flowers, and drink the spring;
But wherever her peaceful form appeared,
The wild beasts of the hill were cheered; 295
The wolf played blythely round the field,
The lordly byson lowed, and kneeled;
The dun deer wooed with manner bland,
And cowered beneath her lily hand.
And when at eve the woodlands rung,
When hymns of other worlds she sung
In ecstasy of sweet devotion,

300

O, then the glen was all in motion!
The wild beasts of the forest came,
Broke from their boughts and faulds the

And goved around, charmed and amazed;
Even the dull cattle crooned and gazed,
And murmured, and looked with anxious
pain

For something the mystery to explain.
The buzzard came with the throstle-cock; 310
The corby left her houf in the rock;
The blackbird alang wi' the eagle flew;
The hind came tripping o'er the dew;
The wolf and the kid their raike began,

And the kid and the lamb and the leveret 315

ran;

The hawk and the hern attour them hung, And the merle and the mavis forhooyed their young;

And all in a peaceful ring were hurled —
It was like an eve in a sinless world!

320

When a month and a day had come and gane, Kilmeny sought the greenwood wene; There laid her down on the leaves sae

green,

And Kilmeny on earth was never mair seen. But O! the words that fell frae her mouth

And he was forced to fly;
So with his wife and child he fled,
Nor had he where to rest his head.

'With fire and sword the country round
Was wasted far and wide,
And many a childing mother then,
And new-born baby died;

But things like that, you know, must be
At every famous victory.

"They say it was a shocking sight After the field was won;

For many thousand bodies here

Lay rotting in the sun;

But things like that, you know, must be After a famous victory.

40

45

50

'Great praise the Duke of Marlbro' won, 55

And our good Prince Eugene.'

'Why 't was a very wicked thing!'

Said little Wilhelmine.

'Nay, nay, my little girl,' quoth he, 'It was a famous victory.

'And everybody praised the Duke

Who this great fight did win.' 'But what good came of it at last?’ Quoth little Peterkin.

'Why that I cannot tell,' said he, 'But 't was a famous victory.'

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65

1798

And then the old man shook his head, And, with a natural sigh,

15

"T is some poor fellow's skull,' said he, 'Who fell in the great victory.

And often when I go to plough,

The ploughshare turns them out! For many thousand men,' said he, 'Were slain in that great victory.'

Where'er these casual eyes are cast,

The mighty minds of old;

My never-failing friends are they, With whom I converse day by day.

5

90

95

35

And running and stunning, And foaming and roaming, And dinning and spinning, And dropping and hopping, And working and jerking, And guggling and struggling, And heaving and cleaving, And moaning and groaning; And glittering and frittering, And gathering and feathering, And whitening and brightening, And quivering and shivering, And hurrying and skurrying, And thundering and floundering; Dividing and gliding and sliding, And falling and brawling and sprawling, And driving and riving and striving, And sprinkling and twinkling and wrinkling, And sounding and bounding and rounding, And bubbling and troubling and doub

ling,

100

105

From its fountains

In the mountains,

Its rills and its gills;

Through moss and through brake,

It runs and it creeps

Britannia needs no bulwarks,
No towers along the steep;
Her march is o'er the mountain waves,
Her home is on the deep.

With thunders from her native oak
She quells the floods below
As they roar on the shore,

When the stormy winds do blow;
When the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy winds do blow.

The meteor flag of England
Shall yet terrific burn,

Till danger's troubled night depart,
And the star of peace return.
Then, then, ye ocean-warriors!
Our song and feast shall flow
To the fame of your name,
When the storm has ceased to blow;
When the fiery fight is heard no more,
And the storm has ceased to blow.

THE EXILE OF ERIN

1801

Oh cruel fate! wilt thou never replace me In a mansion of peace where no perils can

chase me? Never again shall my brothers embrace me? They die to defend me, or live to deplore!

'Where is my cabin-door, fast by the wild wood?

25

Sisters and sire! did ye weep for its fall? Where is the mother that looked on my childhood?

And where is the bosom-friend, dearer than all?

Oh! my sad heart! long abandoned by pleassure,

Why did it dote on a fast-fading treasure? 30 Tears, like the rain-drop, may fall without measure,

But rapture and beauty they cannot recall. 'Yet all its sad recollections suppressing,

One dying wish my lone bosom can draw: Erin! an exile bequeaths thee his blessing! 35 Land of my forefathers! "Erin go bragh!" Buried and cold, when my heart stills her motion,