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To lone lake that smiles,
In its dream of deep rest,
At the many star-isles
That enjewel its breast –
Where wild flowers, creeping,
Have mingled their shade,
On its margin is sleeping
Full many a maid –
Some have left the cool glade, and
[1]Have slept with the bee –
Arouse them, my maiden,
On moorland and lea –
Go! breathe on their slumber,
All softly in ear,
Thy musical number
They slumbered to hear
For what can awaken
An angel so soon,
- ↑ The wild bee will not sleep in the shade if there be moonlight.
The rhyme in this verse, as in one about 60 lines before, has an appearance of affectation. It is, however, imitated from Sir W. Scott, or rather from Claud Halcro – in whose mouth I admired its effect.
O! were there an island,
Tho' ever so wild
Where woman might smile, and
No man be beguil'd, &c.
