KILMENY'S RETURN FROM FAIRY LAND.

WHEN seven lang years had come and fled;
When grief was calm, and hope was dead;
When scarce was remembered Kilmeny's name,
Late, late in a gloamin', Kilmeny cam' 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 maidens' een

In that mild face could never be seen,

Her seymar was the lilly flower,

And her cheek the moss-rose in the shower;

And her voice like the distant melodie

That floats along the twilight sea.

But she loved to rake the lanely glen,
And keepit 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:
The wolf played blithely round the field,
The lordly byson lowed and kneeled;
The dun-deer wooed with manner bland,
And cowered aneath her lily hand.
And when at even the woodlands rung,
When hymns of other worlds she sung,
In ecstasy of sweet devotion,
O, then the glen was all in motion:
The wild beasts of the forest came;

Broke from their bughts and faulds the tame,