142
poems.
Around her from the clouds dark faces bend,
And from the solemn sky their welcome send.
Sarno is there 1 we see his gloomy brow;
Hidallan's eyes rest on his lov'd one now.
Ah, Comala, when shall thy white hand arise?
And on the rock, so dark against the skies,
Thy voice be heard? The maids upon the plain
Shall seek thee long; but they shall seek in vain.
But thou, sweet maid, who blest our stormy streams.
Shall come at night to guide them in their dreams;
Shall give soft peace to them, for ye can tell
How deep is love, who for the lov'd one fell.
And they will not forget thy gentle tone
When with the day thy loving voice is flown;
Sweet joy shall dwell in every virgin breast
When thou art near to bless their quiet rest.
See meteors gleam around th' departing maid,
And moonbeams guide her through death's awful shade.'
And from the solemn sky their welcome send.
Sarno is there 1 we see his gloomy brow;
Hidallan's eyes rest on his lov'd one now.
Ah, Comala, when shall thy white hand arise?
And on the rock, so dark against the skies,
Thy voice be heard? The maids upon the plain
Shall seek thee long; but they shall seek in vain.
But thou, sweet maid, who blest our stormy streams.
Shall come at night to guide them in their dreams;
Shall give soft peace to them, for ye can tell
How deep is love, who for the lov'd one fell.
And they will not forget thy gentle tone
When with the day thy loving voice is flown;
Sweet joy shall dwell in every virgin breast
When thou art near to bless their quiet rest.
See meteors gleam around th' departing maid,
And moonbeams guide her through death's awful shade.'
COLMA.
From "Songs of Selma."—Ossian.
'Tis night, and on the stormy hill,
When winds delight to mourn aloud,
I wander sad, while sorrows fill
The faithful heart,—which nought can shroud.
When winds delight to mourn aloud,
I wander sad, while sorrows fill
The faithful heart,—which nought can shroud.
