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Some close behind, some side by side,
Like clouds in stormy weather,
They run, and cry, *' Nay let us die,
And let us die together."
A Lake was near; the shore was steep;
There never Foot had been;
They ran, and with a desperate leap
Together plunged into the deep,
Nor ever more were seen.
Sing, mournfully, oh! mournfully,
The Solitude of Binnorie.
The Stream that flows out of the Lake, As through the glen it rambles, Repeats a moan o'er moss and stone. For those seven lovely Campbells. Seven little Islands, green and bare, Have risen from out the deep:
The Fishers say, those Sisters fair
To H. a,
SIX YEARS OLD.
O Thou! whose fancies from afar are brought;
Who of thy words dost make a mock apparel,
And fittest to unutterable thought
The breeze-like motion and the self-born carol;
Thou Faery Voyager! that dost float
In such clear water, that thy Boat
May rather seem
To brood on air than on an earthly stream;
Suspended in a stream as clear as sky,
Where earth and heaven do make one imagery;
0 blessed Vision! happy Child! That art so exquisitely wild,
I think of thee with many fears
For what may be thy lot in future years.
I thought of times when Pain might be thy guest,
What hast Thou to do with sorrow,