Which fortune has in store for faithful hearts
The silliest moorland herd can follow that.
RORY.
SONG.
I've seen the moon gleam through the cave,
And minute drops like diamonds glancing;
I've seen, upon a heaving wave,
The tressy-headed mermaid dancing:
But ne'er was seen, in summer night,
Beneath the moon, in brightness riding,
A moving thing, to charm the sight,
Like Flora to her Malcolm gliding.
I've heard a pibroch, through the wind,
As absent chief his home was nearing;
A half-stripp'd infant, sweetly kind,
With mimic words its mother cheering:
But ne'er were evening sounds so sweet,
As, near the spot of promise stealing,
The quick, soft tread of Flora's feet,
Then whisper'd words, herself revealing.
My boat I've fastened to the stake,
And on the shelly beach am pacing,
While she is passing moor and brake,
On heather braes her shadow tracing;
And here we'll pass a happy hour,
For hours and years of bliss preparing,
When we shall grace our girdled tower,
Lands, life, and love together sharing.
