The lord of the isles . XVI. This lake, said Bruce, whose barriers drearAre precipices sharp and sheer,Yielding no track for gnat or deer, Save the black shelves we tread,Bow term you its dark waves? and howYon northern mountains pathless brow, And yonder peak of dread,That to the evening sun upliftsThe griesly gulfs and slaty rifts, Which seam its shivered head?—Coriskin call the dark lakes name,Coolin the ridge, as bards proclaim, the lord of the isles. CANTO 111. From old Cuehullin, chief of fame. But bards, familiar in our isles Rather with Natures frowns than smiles. Full oft their carele
The lord of the isles . XVI. This lake, said Bruce, whose barriers drearAre precipices sharp and sheer,Yielding no track for gnat or deer, Save the black shelves we tread,Bow term you its dark waves? and howYon northern mountains pathless brow, And yonder peak of dread,That to the evening sun upliftsThe griesly gulfs and slaty rifts, Which seam its shivered head?—Coriskin call the dark lakes name,Coolin the ridge, as bards proclaim, the lord of the isles. CANTO 111. From old Cuehullin, chief of fame. But bards, familiar in our isles Rather with Natures frowns than smiles. Full oft their careless humours please By sportive names from scenes like these. I would old Torquil were to show Ilis maidens with their breasts of snow, Or that my noble Liege were nigh To here his Nurse sing- lullaby !. (The Maids—tall cliffs with breakers white, The Nurse—a torrents roaring might,) Or that your eye could see the mood Of Corryvrekins whirlpool rude, When dons the Hag her whitend hood — Tis thus our islesmens fancy frames. For scenes so stern, fantastic XVII. Ajiswerd the Brace, And musing mindMight here a graver moral mighty cliffs, that heave on highTheir naked brows to middle to the sun or snow,Where nought can lade, and nought can blow,May they not mark a Monarchs fate,—Raised high mid storms of strife and stateBeyond lifes lowlier pleasures placed,His soul a rock, his heart a waste?1Oer hope and love and fear aloftHigh rears his crowned head—But soft !Look, underneath yon jutting crag-Are hunters and a slaughterd may they he? But late you saidNo steps these desert regions tread?— XVIII. So said I—and believed in sooth,;Ronald replied, I spoke the truth. 1 He who ascends to mountain-tops, shall findThe loftiest peaks most w
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