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8
KESWICK BAY.
From the breezy hill where the pine-trees
Are sighing their fragrance away.
I'll show you the wavelets sparkle,
And the dancing zephyrs at play.
And after the storm-clouds gather,
That sweep over Oro's hill,
I'll show you the waves of shadow
On the meadows of Innisfil.
We'll sail to Ke-nah-bec Island,
Where the last of the O-jib-way
Will tell us the ancient legends
Of the Red man and Keswick Bay;
Of the great black-crested serpent
With eyes of fiery red,
That dwelt in the Holland marshes,
And hid in the river's bed,
And prowl'd abroad in the darkness,
The terror of lake and land,
