He saw the Lake, and a
meteor bright
Quick over its surface play’d-
"Welcome," he said, "my dear one’s light!"
And the dim shore echoed for many a night
The name of the death-cold maid. |
Till he hollow’d
a boat of the birchen bark,
Which carried him off from shore;
Far, far he follow’d the meteor spark,
The wind was high and the clouds were dark,
And the boat return‘d no more. |
But oft, from the Indian
hunter’s camp,
This lover and maid so true
Are seen at the hour of midnight damp
To cross the Lake by afire-fly lamp,
And paddle their white canoe. |
Credits and Copyright
Together with the editors, the Department of English (University of
Toronto), and the University of Toronto Press, the following individuals
share copyright for the work that went into this edition:
Screen Design (Electronic Edition): Sian Meikle (University of Toronto
Library)
Scanning: Sharine Leung (Centre for Computing in
the Humanities)
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