Glanced in the heart of Romillé. 

 And oft the huntsman by his side, 

 Would warn him from the fatal tide, 

 And whisper in his heedless ear, 

 To think upon his mother's tear, 

 Should aught of ill or harm befall 

 Her child, her hope, her life, her all; 

 And bade him, for more sakes than one, 

 The desperate, dangerous leap to shun. 

 He smiled, and gave the herdsman's prayer. 

 And all his counsel to the air, 

 And laughed to see the old man's eye, 

 Fix'd in imploring agony. 

 Where the wild stream's eternal strife, 

 Wake the dark echoes into life, 

 Where rudely o'er the rock it gushes, 

 Lost in its everlasting foam; 

 And swift the channeled water rushes, 

 With ceaseless roar and endless storm; 

 And rugged crags, dark, grey, and high, 

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