The faynt-rayed moone shynes dimme and hoar, The nor-wynde moans with fittful roare, The snow-drift hydes the cottage doore, Emmeline, I wander lonelie on the moore, Emmeline.
Thou sittest in the castle halle In festal tyre and silken palle, 'Mid smylinge friendes--all hartes thy thrall, Emmeline, My best-beloved--my lyfe--my all, Emmeline.
I marke the brightness quit thy cheeke, I knowe the thought thou dost not speake, Some absent one thy glances seeke, Emmeline, I pace alone the mooreland bleake, Emmeline.
Thy willfull brother--woe the daye! Why did hee cross mee on my waye? I slewe him that I would not slaye, Emmeline, I cannot washe his bloode awaye, Emmeline.
Oh, why, when stricken from his hande, Far flew his weapon o'er the strande-- Why did hee rush upon my brande? Emmeline, Colde lyes his corse upon the sande, Emmeline.
Thou'rt too, too younge--too younge and fayre To learne the wearie rede of care-- My bitter griefe thou must not share, Emmeline, I could not bidde thee wedde despaire, Emmeline.
Through noisome fenne and tangled brake, Where crawle the lizard and the snake, My mournfull hopelesse way I take, Emmeline, To live a hermitt for thy sake, Emmeline.
Thy buoyaunt spirit may forgett The happie houre when last we mett-- My sunne of hope is darklie sett, Emmeline, I'll bee thy guardian-angell yett, Emmeline.
Smiles the sunbeam on the waters-- On the waters glad and free; Sparkling, flashing, laughing, dancing-- Emblem fair of childhood's glee.
Ruddy on the waves reflected, Deeper glows the sinking ray; Like the smile of young affection Flushed by fancy's changeful play.
Mist-enwreathing, chill and gloomy, Steals grey twilight o'er the lake-- Ah! to days of autumn sadness Soon our dreaming souls awake.
Night has fallen, dark and silent, Starry myriads gem the sky; Thus, when earthly hopes have failed us, Brighter visions beam on high.
An aged man sat lonesomely within a rustic porch, His eyes in troubled thoughtfulness were bent upon the ground: Why pondered he so mournfully, that venerable man? He dreamt sad dreams of early days, the happy days of youth.
He dreamt fond dreams of early days, the lightsome days of youth; He saw his distant island home--the cot his fathers built-- The bright green fields their hands had tilled--the once accustomed haunts; And, dearer still, the old churchyard where now their ashes lie.