She walk’d upon the earth, as one who knew The dread mysterious secrets of the grave; For never o’er her eye of heav’nly blue Lighten’d a smile; but like the ocean wave That roars, unblest with sunshine, through the cave Rear’d in the depths of Snowden, she had flown To endless grief for refuge; and would rave, And tell to the night-winds her tale unknown, Or wander o’er the heath, deserted and alone. And when the rain beat hard against the hill, And storms rush’d by upon their wing of pow’r, Lonely she’d stray beside the bubbling rill, Or fearless list the deep-voic’d cataract’s roar; And when the tempest’s wrath was heard no more She wander’d home, the mountain sod to dress With many a wreath, and many a summer flow’r: And thus she liv’d, the sister of distress, The solitude of love, nurst in the wilderness. She was the child of nature; earth, sea, sky, Mountain and cataract, fern-clad hill and dale Possess’d a nameless charm in her young eye, Pure and eternal, for in Deva’s vale Her heart first listen’d to a lover’s tale, Breath’d by a mountain kerne; and every scene That wanton’d blithely in the od’rous gale, Had oft beheld her lord’s enamour’d mien, As tremblingly she sought each spot where he had been. But she is gone! The cold earth is her pillow, And o’er her blooms the summer’s sweetest flow’r; And o’er her ashes weeps the grateful willow She lov’d to cherish in a happier hour-- Mute is the voice that breath’d from Deva’s bow’r Chill is the soul of the neglected rover; We saw the death-cloud in destruction low’r O’er her meek head, the western waves roll’d over The corse of him she lov’d, her own devoted lover. But oft, when the faint sun is in the west, And the hush’d gales along the ocean die, Strange sounds reecho from her place of rest, And sink into the heart most tenderly-- The bird of evening hour, the humming bee, And the wild music of the mountain rill, Seem breathing sorrow as they murmur by, And whispering to the night, while all is still, The tale of the poor girl--the “Lady of the Hill.” W. F. D.--_Indicator._ ~Marriage Customs.~ HIGHLAND WEDDINGS. BY JOHN HAY ALLAN, ESQ.