“Fair is the crystal hall for me, With rubies and with emeralds set, And sweet the music of the sea Shall sing, when we for love are met.
“How sweet to dance, with gliding feet, Along the level tide so green, Responsive to the cadence sweet, That breathes along the moonlight scene!
“And soft the music of the main Rings from the motley tortoise-shell, While moonbeams, o’er the watery plain, Seem trembling in its fitful swell.
“Through the green meads beneath the sea, Enamoured, we shall fondly stray-- Then, gentle warrior, dwell with me, And leave the Maid of Colonsay!”--
“Though bright thy locks of glistening gold, Fair maiden of the foamy main! Thy life-blood is the water cold, While mine beats high in every vein.
“Though all the splendour of the sea Around thy faultless beauty shine, That heart, that riots wild and free, Can hold no sympathy with mine.
“These sparkling eyes, so wild and gay, They swim not in the light of love: The beauteous Maid of Colonsay, Her eyes are milder than the dove!
“Even now, within the lonely isle, Her eyes are dim with tears for me; And canst thou think that siren smile Can lure my soul to dwell with thee?”
An oozy film her limbs o’erspread; Unfolds in length her scaly train: She tossed, in proud disdain, her head, And lashed, with webbed fin, the main.
“Dwell here, alone!” the Mermaid cried, “And view far off the Sea-nymphs play; Thy prison-wall, the azure tide, Shall bar thy steps from Colonsay.
“Whene’er, like Ocean’s scaly brood, I cleave, with rapid fin, the wave, Far from the daughter of the flood, Conceal thee in this coral cave.
“I feel my former soul return; It kindles at thy cold disdain: And has a mortal dared to spurn A daughter of the foamy main!”--
She fled; around the crystal cave The rolling waves resume their road On the broad portal idly rave, But enter not the Nymph’s abode.
And many a weary night went by, As in the lonely cave he lay; And many a sun rolled through the sky, And poured its beams on Colonsay;
And oft, beneath the silver moon, He heard afar the Mermaid sing, And oft, to many a melting tune, The shell-formed lyres of ocean ring:
And when the moon went down the sky, Still rose, in dreams, his native plain, And oft he thought his love was by, And charmed him with some tender strain;