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! fair to see Such beauty bard may never declare, For there was no pride nor passion there; In that mild face could never be seen. And her cheek the moss-rose in the shower; To suck the flowers and drink the spring. O, then the glen was all in motion ! The wild beasts of the forest came, Broke from their bughts and faulds the tame, And goved around, charmed and amazed; Even the dull cattle crooned and gazed, And murmured and looked with anxious pain, |