Don't you hear them faintly calling
From those scenes I knew of yore,
Don't you hear them gently asking
Why I now return no more?
But, alas, I'm doomed to answer
That in exile here I feel
From the spirits of the waters
In the bosom of Lochiel.
But in spirit I am sitting
By that far off water side,
And when oft my eyes are closing,
Still I feel them round me glide.
And I see them floating ghostlike,
As a moment more I steal
With the spirits of the water
In the bosom of Lochiel.
Don't you hear them now conversing
Of their life beneath the wave,
On its margin quietly resting
Where its mountain waters lave.
Oh, you ne'er can know the pleasure,
At the shrine you never kneel,
With the spirits of the water
In the bosom of Lochiel.
But to-day, I know they're sleeping
Far away from human reach,
For I see the wavelets rippling,
With a smile towards the beach.
And the changes on their surface
But the shifting moods reveal
With the spirits of the water
In the bosom of Lochiel.
Oh, 'tis often times they're fretting,
For to me they've oft confessed
While I've listened to the sobbing
From the water's heaving breast.
At such times they ne'er were angry,
'Twas but sorrow they would feel,
Those strange spirits of the waters
In the bosom of Lochiel.
As of old again I'm listening
To their melting Gaelic air,
While the waves are ever crooning,
Till no human voice would dare
To disturb the mystic grandeur
That to me makes such appeal,
As the spirits of the waters
In the bosom of Lochiel.
Don't you hear them now awaking -
'Tis the spirits of the gale
On the foreshore wildly lashing,
Sending forth their angry wail.
See them chase, and dance, and caper,
In fantastic Highland reel,
Those strange spirits of the waters
In the bosom of Lochiel.
Don't I know they're ever longing
For a victim fresh to grasp;
Don't I know they're ever planning
In their bosom cold to clasp
He who seeks the treacherous waters
And does not for safety kneel
To the spirits of the waters
In the bosom of Lochiel.
Don't I feel my spirits rising
With the rising of the storm,
As I fearlessly am tossing
On its waters cleft and torn.
For I know their life's enchanted
Who on fortunes fickle wheel
Woo the spirits of the waters
In the bosom of Lochiel.
While with them the time is rolling,
As I bridge the span of years
And again with them I'm living
Guardian of the world's young fears.
When mankind was in his morning,
Long ere this was set the seal
Of the spirits of the waters
In the bosom of Lochiel.
Don't I know just what you're thinking,
'Tis but common sounds I hear;
I'm a mystic idly dreaming,
With those visions ever near.
But I know you ne'er can fathom,
Ne'er the mystic glamour feel
Of the spirits of the waters
In the bosom of Lochiel. |
