Miss Porden

Tho’ lovely fair the summer sky,
Tho’ sweet is summer’s smile,
Nor sweet, nor fair, to Malcolm’s eye
Who mourns in sad captivity,
Far from the lonely Isle!

But if by dear “Loch Katrine’s” side
And “Her I love” was near the while,
How sweet to watch its silv’ry tide
Or on its liquid bosom glide
Towards the lonely Isle!

Oh! then, the summer sky so blue
And all the charms of summer’s smile
I pleas’d could own, with transport view,
For “Her I love” would own them too!
Upon the lonely Isle!

Malcolm Graeme