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    • iBSfc On the Cdftnexidn between Poetry and Religion .

    Untitled Article

    # - i And when she awakened she lay her Ian 6 , All happed with flowers in the greert-wood Wene . When seven lang years had come and fled , When orrief was calm , and hope was dead ;

    When scarce was remembered Kilmeny ' s name , Late , late in a gloamin Kilmeny came hame ! And O , her beauty was fair to see , But still and steadfast was her ee ! Such beauty bard may never declare , For there was no pride nor passion there ; And the soft desire of maiden \ een

    v 9 r In that mild face could never be seen . Her seymar was the lily flower , And her cheek the moss-rose in the shower ; And her voice like the distant melodye * That floats along the twilight sea . But she loved to raike the lanely glen , And keeped afar frae the haunts of men , Her holy hymns unheard to sing , To suck the flowers , and drink the spring . But wherever her peaceful form appeared ,

    The Wild beasts of the hill were cheered ; The wolf played blythely round the field , The lordly byson lowed and kneeled ; The dun-deer wooed in manner bland , And cowered aneath her lily hand . And when at even the woodlands runer ,

    When hymns of other worlds she sung In extasy of sweet devotion , O , then the glen was all in motion ! The wild beasts of the forest came , * - Broke from their bughts and faulds the tame , &c . &c . And all in a peaceful ring were hurled ; It was like an eve in a sinless world I

    ' When a month and a day had come and gane , Kilmeny sought the green-wood wene ; Then laid her down on the leaves sae green , And Kilmeny on earth was never mair seen . But O , the words that fell from her mouth , Were words of wonder , and words of truth ! But all the land were in fear and dread , For they kendna whether she was living or dead . It wasna her hame , and she couldna remain ; She left this world of sorrow and pain , And returned to the land of thought again . ' ( pp . 190—193 . )

    Poor Kilmeny ! Yet we know not why we should say so—except that we are sorry to part with her- Her name will always be a spell for our heart ; and we are sorry for that reader , who will go through these extracts , and not acknowledge that they are like fragments of music heard in the dreams of the soul . We

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  • Monthly Repository (1806-1838) and Unitarian Chronicle (1832-1833), Sept. 2, 1832, page 626, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse.ac.uk/periodicals/mruc/issues/vm2-ncseproduct1820/page/50/