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Evan MacColl

The Child of Promise

She died — as die the roses
On the ruddy clouds of dawn,
When tlie envious sun discloses
His flame and morning's gone. ,
She died—like waves of sun -glow
By fleeting shadows chased;
She died— like heaven's rainbow
By gushing showers effaced.
She died—like snow glad-gracing
Some sea-marge fair, when lo !
Rude waves each other chasing,
Quick hide it 'neath their flow.
She died— as dies the glory
Of music's sweetest swell
:
She died—as dies the story
When the best is still to tell
She died— as dies moon-beaming.
When scowls the rayless main :
She died— like sweetest dreaming

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The Lake of the Thousand Isles

(For Music.)
Though Missouri'stide may majestic glide,
There's a curse on the soil it laves;
The Ohio, too, may be fair, but who
Would sojourn in the land of slaves?
Be my prouder lot a Canadian cot
And the bread of a freeman's toils;
Then hurrah for the land of the forests grand,
And the Lake of the Thousand Isles!
I would seek no wealth, at the cost of health,
'Mid the city's din and strife;
More I love the grace of fair nature's face,
And the calm of a woodland life;
I would shun the road by ambition trod,
And the lore which the heart defiles;--
Then hurrah for the land of the forests grand,
And the Lake of the Thousand Isles!

O away, away! I would gladly stray
Where the freedom I love is found;

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A Lover's Lament

In vain do springtime's many charms essay
To chase the gloom in Aray's glen to-day ;
The strains that there once charmed my listening ear
Can ne'er again avail my heart to cheer.
When that fair star, so late my soul's delight,
Hath vanished, never more to cheer my sight,

'When my fond heart, sad-missing joy so brief,
Lies in the dust, enamoured of its grief,

When, for the couch she soon might reach, fove-led.
The grave becometh Jessie's bridal bed.
Well may the tears of friendship freely flow,
And life to me be an unending woe.
Insatiate Death ! was it to make us see
How all impartial fly thy arrows, we
Are left to mourn her dead, whose graces might
Make even thee ashamed our prayers to slight ?

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Mairi Laghach

Chorus.—Hey, my winsome Mary,—
Mary fondly free !
Hey, my winsome Mary,
; Mary, mine to be !

Winsome, handsome Mary,
Who so fair as she ?
My own Highland lassie.
Dear as life to me !w^
130 MacColl's Poems.
Long ere in my bosom
Lodged Love's arrow keen,
Often with young Mary
In Gleiism'^oil I've beeii ;
Happy hours ! succeeded
By affection true,
Till there seem'd 'neath heaven
No such loving two !
Cnoiius.— Hey, my &o.
Often I and Mary

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Loch-Duich

LooH-DuicH, hail ! Scene so all-resplendent!
Were power befitting my wish now mine,
Soon, in a song as my theme transcendent.
Thy charms unmatched would forever shine.
While storms are often o'er ocean sweeping,
Unbroken here is thy slumber, deep
And calm as that of an infant sleeping
Near some sad mother who wakes to weep.
Well may the skiff of the fisher daring.
When tempest-tossed on a sea more wide.
Be often seen towards thee glad-steering,
Assured of safety on thy calm tide.
Ye hills that soar in stern beauty yonder.
Proud watchers over Loch-duich's rest.
Well may ye glory to see your grandeur
Thus mirror'd daily in Duich's breast!

How grand the sight when, with night advancing.
The stars seem touching your summits bold !
Nor less the joy when, your charms enhancing.

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