She saw before her fair unfurled One-half of all the glowing world, Where oceans rolled, and rivers ran, To bound the aims of sinful man. She saw a people, fierce and fell, Burst frae their bonds like fiends of hell; There lilies grew, and the eagle flew: And she herkèd on her ravening crew, Till the cities and towers were wrapped in a blaze, And the thunder it roared o’er the lands and the seas. The widows wailed, and the red blood ran, And she threatened an end to the race of man; She never loved, nor stood in awe, Till caught by the lion’s deadly paw. Oh! then the eagle swinked for life, And brainzelled up a mortal strife; But flew she north, or flew she south, She met wi’ the gowl o’ the lion’s mouth. With a mooted wing and waefu’ maen, The eagle sought her eiry again: But lang may she cower in her bloody nest, And lang, lang sleek her wounded breast, Before she sey another flight, To play wi’ the norland lion’s might. But to sing the sights Kilmeny saw, So far surpassing nature’s law, The singer’s voice wad sink away, And the string of his harp wad cease to play. But she saw till the sorrows of man were by, And all was love and harmony;— Till the stars of heaven fell calmly away, Like flakes of snaw on a winter day. Then Kilmeny begged again to see The friends she had left in her ain countrie, To tell of the place where she had been, And the glories that lay in the land unseen; To warn the living maidens fair, The loved of heaven, the spirits’ care, That all whose minds unmeled remain Shall bloom in beauty when time is gane. With distant music, soft and deep, They lulled Kilmeny sound asleep; And when she awakened, she lay her lane, All happed with flowers, in the greenwood wene. When seven long years had come and fled, When grief was calm, and hope was dead, When scarce was remembered Kilmeny’s name, Late, late in a gloamin’ Kilmeny came hame. And O, her beauty was fair to see, But still and steadfast was her e’e! Such beauty bard may never declare, For there was no pride nor passion there; And the soft desire of maiden’s e’en In that mild face could never be seen. Her seymar was the lily flower, And her cheek the moss-rose in the shower; And her voice like the distant melodye That floats along the twilight sea. But she loved to raike the lanely glen, And keep afar frae the haunts of men, Her holy hymns unheard to sing, To suck the flowers, and drink the spring; But wherever her peaceful form appeared The wild beasts of the hill were cheered; The wolf played blithely round the field, The lordly byson lowed and kneeled; The dun deer wooed with manner bland, And cowered beneath her lily hand. And when at eve the woodlands rung, When hymns of other worlds she sung In ecstacy of sweet devotion, O, then the glen was all in motion! The wild beasts of the forest came,