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TO ELLEN.
he Scottish Border Minstrel’s lay
Entranced me oft in boyhood’s day;
His forests, glens, and streams,
Mountains, and heather blooming fair,
And Highland lake, and lady, were
The playmates of my dreams.
Years passed away—my dreams were gone;
My pilgrim footsteps passed at noon
Loch Katrine’s storied shores:
In silence slept the fairy lake,
Nor did the mountain-echoes wake
At music of my oars.
No tramp of warrior-men I heard;
Welcome-song, or challenge-word,
I listened, but in vain;
And, moored beside his favorite tree,
As vainly wooed the minstrelsy
Of gray-haired Allan Bane.
I saw the Highland heath-flower smile
In beauty, upon Ellen’s isle;
