The Scottish Celtic review

pleasantmaidenhast!UH 'The Wish uf the Aged BanJ.From what land do the breezes straj'On which thy sorrow's voice is borne,youth that wandered far away,Oh !And left my hoary locks forlorn ?Do tears bedim thy modest ej^es,Oh ! with the hand of snow ?Blest is the smooth young cheek that liesWithin its narrow bed laid low !Say, since my aged vision fails.Oh !wind, where is the reed's resort.Through which an eerie music wails,And by whose side the fishes sport ?Oh ! raise me with a tender hand.And place me 'neath the birken shade,That when the sun at noon shall stand,Its green shield may be o'er my head.Then shalt thou come, oh ! starry dream,That glidest through the realms of night,And bring to me a soothing gleamOf vanished daj's of joy and light !My soul, the lovely maid behold.Within the shady oaken grove,Her white hand 'mid her locks of gold,Her blue eye on her youthful loveHe sings most sweetly by her side.And scarce her lips draw in the breath;Her heart swims in the music's tide,And deer stop listening on the heath.'Tis hushed now, and her smooth M'hite breastHeaves to her love's in rapturous bliss ;Her rosy lips are closely pressedTo his in one long honied kiss.Oh ! be ye happy, lovely pair !Who've wakened in my soul a gleamOf joy that I no more may share ;May love forever round you beam !Oh !dream ! thou thus gone ?Come back ;let me but one glimpse hail !