THE FAIR-LOCKED YOUTH.
SONG XXIII.
1
Where is he gone, my fair-lock'd youth,
Yestreen he came not to my bow'r;
While weary watch'd I, till the lark
Sprang heavenwards in harmonious tour;
The deer leap'd from his mountain lair,
As I wrung the rime-dew from my hair.
2
At midnight came my father home,
No kindred looks remember'd he;
But, smote the room door with his foot,
And gaur'd the bolts and hinges flee;
As hurriedly he strode along,
My name was frequent on his tongue.
3
This morn his look was troublous wild,
He wrung and wash'd his gory hand;
He strove to cleanse his blood-laced vest,
And free from gore his crooked brand;
And much he strove, but strove in vain,
To free it from the deadly stain.
4
O deadly tokens I have got,
Which bode the sundering with my love;
And more than mortal sings I've seen,
Which earthly fondness doth reprove:
The leaping of my heart was still,
Yestreen while I look'd on vale and hill;
5
Red sprang the fiery meteors bright,
Self-kindled on the marsh afar;
And bright career'd, o'er Burnswark peak,
The moon on her refulgent car;
Round her the stars' adoring train,
Sowed all the land with fiery rain:
6
When lo! from Nith's wood-crested deeps,
A blaze of glorious light there came;
Upflash'd it, so transcendant bright,
The moon and stars were quench'd in flame;
The glories of the earth retire,
While heaven receives the fount of fire.
