CORONACH <br /> <br /> <br /> He is gone on the mountain, <br /> He is lost to the forest, <br /> Like a summer-dried fountain, <br /> When our need was the sorest. <br /> The font, reappearing, <br /> From the rain-drops shall borrow, <br /> But to us comes no cheering, <br /> To Duncan no morrow! <br /> <br /> The hand of the reaper <br /> Takes the ears that are hoary, <br /> But the voice of the weeper <br /> Wails manhood in glory. <br /> The autumn winds rushing <br /> Waft the leaves that are searest, <br /> But our flower was in flushing, <br /> When blighting was nearest. <br /> <br /> Fleet foot on the correi, <br /> Sage counsel in cumber, <br /> Red hand in the foray, <br /> How sound is thy slumber! <br /> Like the dew on the mountain, <br /> Like the foam on the river, <br /> Like the bubble on the fountain, <br /> Thou art gone, and for ever!<br /><br />Sir Walter Scott<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-lady-of-the-lake-canto-3-excerpt/
