 | The Zenana and minor poems of L. E. L. [i.e. Landon] |  |
72
KATE KEARNEY.
Why doth the maiden turn away
From voice so sweet, and words so dear?
Why doth the maiden turn away
When love and flattery woo her ear?
And rarely that enchanted twain
Whisper in woman's ear in vain.
Why doth the maiden leave the hall?
No face is fair as hers is fair,
No step has such a fairy fall,
No azure eyes like hers are there.
From voice so sweet, and words so dear?
Why doth the maiden turn away
When love and flattery woo her ear?
And rarely that enchanted twain
Whisper in woman's ear in vain.
Why doth the maiden leave the hall?
No face is fair as hers is fair,
No step has such a fairy fall,
No azure eyes like hers are there.
73
The maiden seeks her lonely bower,
Although her father's guests are met;
She knows it is the midnight hour,
She knows the first pale star is set,
And now the silver moon-beams wake
The spirits of the haunted Lake.
The waves take rainbow hues, and now
The shining train are gliding by,
Their chieftain lifts his glorious brow,
The maiden meets his lingering eye.
Although her father's guests are met;
She knows it is the midnight hour,
She knows the first pale star is set,
And now the silver moon-beams wake
The spirits of the haunted Lake.
The waves take rainbow hues, and now
The shining train are gliding by,
Their chieftain lifts his glorious brow,
The maiden meets his lingering eye.
The glittering shapes melt into night;
Another look, their chief is gone,
And chill and gray comes morning's light,
And chear and cold the Lake flows on;
Close, close the casement, not for sleep,
Over such visions eyes but weep.
How many share such destiny,
How many, lured by fancy's beam,
Ask the impossible to be,
And pine, the victims of a dream.
Another look, their chief is gone,
And chill and gray comes morning's light,
And chear and cold the Lake flows on;
Close, close the casement, not for sleep,
Over such visions eyes but weep.
74
How many, lured by fancy's beam,
Ask the impossible to be,
And pine, the victims of a dream.
The romantic story of Kate Kearney, “who dwelt by the shore of Killarney,” is too well known to need repetition. She is said to have cherished a visionary passion for O`Donoghue, an enchanted chieftain who haunts those beautiful Lakes, and to have died the victim “of folly, of love, and of madness.”
| The Zenana and minor poems of L. E. L. [i.e. Landon] | |