On a Scene in the Dargle

’Twas a bright moment of my life when first,
O thou pure stream through rocky portals flowing!
That temple-chamber of thy glory burst
On my glad sight! Thy pebbly couch lay glowing
With deep mosaic hues; and, richly throwing
O’er thy cliff-walls a tinge of autumn’s vest,
High bloom’d the heath-flowers, and the wild wood’s crest
Was touch’d with gold. Flow ever thus, bestowing
Gifts of delight, sweet stream! on all who move
Gently along thy shores; and oh! if love--
True love, in secret nursed, with sorrow fraught--
Should sometimes bear his treasured griefs to thee,
Then full of kindness let thy music be,
Singing repose to every troubled thought!