Proud Gordon cannot bear the thoughts That through his brain are travelling, And, starting up, to Bruce's heart He launch'd a deadly jav'lin! Fair Ellen saw it when it came, And, stepping forth to meet the same, Did with her body cover The Youth her chosen lover. And, falling into Bruce's arms, Thus died the beauteous Ellen, Thus from the heart of her true-love The mortal spear repelling. And Bruce, as soon as he had slain The Gordon, sail'd away to Spain, And fought with rage incessant Against the Moorish Crescent. But many days and many months, And many years ensuing, This wretched Knight did vainly seek The death that he was wooing: So coming back across the wave, Without a groan on Ellen's grave His body he extended, And there his sorrow ended. Now ye who willingly have heard The tale I have been telling, May in Kirkonnel church-yard view The grave of lovely Ellen: By Ellen's side the Bruce is laid, And, for the stone upon his head, May no rude hand deface it, And its forlorn 'Hic jacet'. Strange fits of passion I have known, And I will dare to tell, But in the lover's ear alone, What once to me befel. When she I lov'd, was strong and gay And like a rose in June, I to her cottage bent my way, Beneath the evening moon. Upon the moon I fix'd my eye, All over the wide lea; My horse trudg'd on, and we drew nigh Those paths so dear to me. And now we reach'd the orchard plot, And, as we climb'd the hill, Towards the roof of Lucy's cot The moon descended still. In one of those sweet dreams I slept, Kind Nature's gentlest boon! And, all the while, my eyes I kept On the descending moon. My horse mov'd on; hoof after hoof He rais'd and never stopp'd: When down behind the cottage roof At once the planet dropp'd. What fond and wayward thoughts will slide Into a Lover's head-- "O mercy!" to myself I cried, "If Lucy should be dead!" SONG. She dwelt among th' untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love. A Violet by a mossy stone Half-hidden from the Eye! --Fair, as a star when only one Is shining in the sky! She _liv'd_ unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceas'd to be; But she is in her Grave, and Oh! The difference to me. A slumber did my spirit seal, I had no human fears: She seem'd a thing that could not feel The touch of earthly years. No motion has she now, no force She neither hears nor sees Roll'd round in earth's diurnal course With rocks and stones and trees! _The WATERFALL and the EGLANTINE_.