A book of Highland minstrelsy . he moor may be supposed to have been thescene of one of the many combats of these rival tribes, for its situationand gloomy character suggest to the mind of the spectator no associationssave those of sorrow and misfortune. The cheerful fields and lifelike moving woods lie far below in thevalley. The lochs catch the rays of the setting sun, but the cold shadeof the overhanging mountains intercepts their brightness from the the heather grows scantily among the rocks that scatter theirbroken masses along the barren soil. Here and there the ground sud-denl
A book of Highland minstrelsy . he moor may be supposed to have been thescene of one of the many combats of these rival tribes, for its situationand gloomy character suggest to the mind of the spectator no associationssave those of sorrow and misfortune. The cheerful fields and lifelike moving woods lie far below in thevalley. The lochs catch the rays of the setting sun, but the cold shadeof the overhanging mountains intercepts their brightness from the the heather grows scantily among the rocks that scatter theirbroken masses along the barren soil. Here and there the ground sud-denly sinks into deep pools, filled with thick, brown, stagnant water,where large clods of peat are slowly settling down, as they become gradu-ally detached from the treacherous sides of the chasm. There are thepits left in many places, whence the fuel has been dug till its depth oflayer has been exhausted. These are very dangerous at night, as the sodaround them is saturated with the bog-water, and yields to the THE HAUNTED TARN ON THE MOOR. There lies a lonely mountain tarnOn Albyns wildest ground, Scarce known but to the heather beeOn homeward errand bound, Or to the weary shepherd boyWho seeks his charge around. 102 Cl)f l^aiintcTJ Cam on i\)t iHoor. It is a solitary moor, Girt by a giant band ;Schihallion throned, like Jove on high, With his thunders in his hand;While a hundred lesser mighty ones In glory neath him stand. From either side, below the tarn,Two vales together blend ; Loch Tummel and Loch Rannoch stretchTheir arms from end to end ; Down to their margins from the steepThe yellow birches bend. Hamlets and wooded knolls are fields of plumy grain. And troops of cheerful labourersWork busy in the plain ; But tillage on this mountain moorWere all bestowed in vain. No plough has torn its clotted moss,No foliage waves in sight, Save one dark clump of ragged pinesThat crest a rocky height — A fearful place it were to passOn a gusty winter ni
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1840, bookidbookofhighlandmi00ogilric
