THE MAID OF LISMORE.

BY L. E. L.

WHY doth the maiden turn away

From voice so sweet, and words so dear?

Why doth the maiden turn away,

When love and flattery woo her ear?

And rarely that enchanted twain,
Whisper in woman's ear in vain.

Why doth the maiden leave the hall?

No face is fair as hers is fair,

No step has such a fairy fall,

No azure eyes like hers are there.

The maiden seeks her lonely bower,
Although her father's guests are met;

She knows it is the midnight hour,

She knows the first pale star is set, And now the silver moon-beams wake

The spirits of the haunted Lake.

The waves take rainbow hues, and now
The shining train are gliding by,
Their chieftain lifts his glorious brow,

The maiden meets his lingering eye.