The lord of the isles . ishes this volume. rill. LOKD 01 THE ISLES. c wilder, forward as they the proud cliffs and lake terraces of granite blackAfforded rude and cumberd track ;For from the mountain hoar,Hurld headlong in some night of yelld the wolf and fled the deer. Loose crags had toppled oer;And some, chance-poised and balanced, lay,So that a stripling arm might sway A mass no host could Natures rage at random thrown,Vet trembling like the Druids stone On its precarious evening mists, with ceaseless change,Xow clothed the mounta
The lord of the isles . ishes this volume. rill. LOKD 01 THE ISLES. c wilder, forward as they the proud cliffs and lake terraces of granite blackAfforded rude and cumberd track ;For from the mountain hoar,Hurld headlong in some night of yelld the wolf and fled the deer. Loose crags had toppled oer;And some, chance-poised and balanced, lay,So that a stripling arm might sway A mass no host could Natures rage at random thrown,Vet trembling like the Druids stone On its precarious evening mists, with ceaseless change,Xow clothed the mountains lofty range, Now left their foreheads hare,And round the skirts their mantle on the sable waters curld,Or on the eddying breezes whirld, Dispersed in middle oft, condensed, at once they lower,When, brief and tierce, the mountain shower Pours like a torrent when return the suns glad 1earns,Whitend with foam a thousand streamsLeap from the mountains crow a. T1IK l,OKI> OP Tlil [SLE! M :?. 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 !
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