The English Poetical Works of Evan MacColl

Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: THE MOUNTAIN MINSTREL. A MAY MORNING IN GLEN-SHIRA. Lo, dawning o'er yon mountain grey The rosy birth-day of the May Glen-Shira knoweth well 'tis Beltane's blissful day. The Maum has donned its brightest green, The hawthorn whitens round Kilblane, And shews Dunchorvil's crest its own heath-purpling sheen....
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Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: THE MOUNTAIN MINSTREL. A MAY MORNING IN GLEN-SHIRA. Lo, dawning o'er yon mountain grey The rosy birth-day of the May Glen-Shira knoweth well 'tis Beltane's blissful day. The Maum has donned its brightest green, The hawthorn whitens round Kilblane, And shews Dunchorvil's crest its own heath-purpling sheen. Hark from yon grove that thrilling gush Of song from linnet, merle, and thrush To hear herself so praised the morning well may blush. The lark, yon crimson clouds among, Rains down a very flood of song; An age, that song to list, would not seem lost or long. Yon cushat by Cuilvocan's stream The spirit of some bard you'd deem? One who had lived and died in love's delicious dream. Thrice welcome minstrel now at hand, The cuckoo joins the tuneful band: A choir like this might grace the bowers of fairy-land Now is the hour by Duloch's tide To scent the birch that decks its side, And watch the snow-white swans o'er its calm bosom glide. Now is the hour a minstrel might Be blameless if, in his delight, He Druid-like adored the sun that crowns yon height O May thou'rt an enchantress rare? Thy presence maketh all things fair; Thou wavest but thy wand, and joy is everywhere. Thou comest and the clouds are not? Rude Boreas has his wrath forgot? The gossamer again is in the air afloat. The foaming torrent from the hill Thou changest to a gentle rill? A thread of liquid pearl, that faintly murmurs still. Thine is the blossom-laden tree? The meads that white with lambkins be? Thine too the nether world that in each lake we see. Cheer'd by thy smile, ' the herd-boy gay Oft sings the rock-repeated lay, And wonders who can be the mocker in his way. Thou givest fragrance to the breeze, A gleaming glory to the seas, No...