I saw her by the dimpling lake,*
    Just when the sun’s last ray was setting,
And paused to hear her softly wake
    The lover’s tale of sad regretting—
Till every note that passed along,
Inspired me with her magic song.

The loveliest of the lovely far,
    She seemed in that retreat so lonely,
Bright hallowed by the vesper star,
    Which o’er then was twinkling only,
Giving a charm to that loved spot,
Which never yet has been forgot. [Page 155]

And as the wood she wandered through,
    Her milk pail in her hand she carried,
Nor made one minute’s pause to view
    A youth, who fondly there had tarried,
The throbbings of his heart to tell,
And love’s too sure enchanting spell.

Oh! never yet has pleasure wove
    Around the heart such soft attraction,
As binds me to this tinted grove,
    Adorned in nature’s gay perfection—
Forming a blushing arbour sweet,
Where two young hearts might gladly meet.

There is a pure—a sacred bliss,
    That o’er the soul comes gently stealing,
When musing in a spot like this,
    Touching the very soul of feeling:—
And oh! that I its joys could share
With my beloved Canadian fair. [Page 156]

* LAKE CALVIERE.—Of the many beautiful lakes that surround the neighbourhood of Quebec, there is none more interesting than Calvière. The scenery is delightful, and such as to attract the admiration of the lover and the poet. An evening’s sail in a canoe, across its peaceful and shaded bosom, which reflects back the shifting figures of the forest, while the parting sunbeams are but faintly thrown among the waving branches, has often been to me the source of great and uninterrupted pleasure. [back]