DIARY CONTINUED. -- ISLE OF HARRIS. -- MONUMENTS OF THE CHIEFS OF
MACLEOD. -- ISLE OF SKYE. -- DUNVEGAN CASTLE. -- LOCH CORRISKIN.
--MACALLISTER'S CAVE
1814
"_22d August, 1814._--Sailed early in the morning from Scalpa
Harbor, in order to cross the Minch, or Channel, for Dunvegan; but
the breeze being contrary, we can only creep along the Harris shore,
until we shall gain the advantage of the tide. The east coast of
Harris, as we now see it, is of a character which sets human
industry at utter defiance, consisting of high sterile hills,
covered entirely with stones, with a very slight sprinkling of
stunted heather. Within, appear still higher peaks of mountains. I
have never seen anything more unpropitious, excepting the southern
side of Griban, on the shores of Loch-na-Gaoil, in the Isle of Mull.
We sail along this desolate coast (which exhibits no mark of human
habitation) with the advantage of a pleasant day, and a brisk,
though not a favorable gale. _Two o'clock_--Row ashore to see the
little harbor and village of Rowdill, on the coast of Harris. There
is a decent three-storied house, belonging to the laird, Mr. Macleod
of the Harris,[83] where we were told two of his female relations
lived. A large vessel had been stranded last year, and two or three
carpenters were about repairing her, but in such a style of Highland
laziness that I suppose she may float next century. The harbor is
neat enough, but wants a little more cover to the eastward. The
ground, on landing, does not seem altogether so desolate as from the
sea. In the former point of view, we overlook all the retired glens
and crevices, which, by infinite address and labor, are rendered
capable of a little cultivation. But few and evil are the patches so
cultivated in Harris, as far as we have seen. Above the house is
situated the ancient church of Rowdill. This pile was unfortunately
burned down by accident some years since, by fire taking to a
quantity of wood laid in for fitting it up. It is a building in the
form of a cross, with a rude tower at the eastern end, like some old
English churches. Upon this tower are certain pieces of sculpture,
of a kind the last which one would have expected on a building
dedicated to religious purposes. Some have lately fallen in a storm,
but enough remains to astonish us at the grossness of the architect
and the age.
"Within the church are two ancient monuments. The first, on the
right hand of the pulpit, presents the effigy of a warrior
completely armed in plate armor, with his hand on his two-handed
broadsword. His helmet is peaked, with a gorget or upper corselet
which seems to be made of mail. His figure lies flat on the
monument, and is in bas-relief, of the natural size. The arch which
surmounts this monument is curiously carved with the figures of the
apostles. In the flat space of the wall beneath the arch, and above
the tombstone, are a variety of compartments, exhibiting the arms of
the Macleods, being a galley with the sails spread, a rude view of
Dunvegan Castle, some saints and religious emblems, and a Latin
inscription, of which our time (or skill) was inadequate to decipher
the first line; but the others announced the tenant of the monument
to be _Alexander, filius Willielmi MacLeod, de Dunvegan, Anno Dni_
M.CCCC.XXVIII. A much older monument (said also to represent a laird
of Macleod) lies in the transept, but without any arch over it. It
represents the grim figure of a Highland chief, not in feudal armor
like the former, but dressed in a plaid--(or perhaps a shirt of
mail)--reaching down below the knees, with a broad sort of hem upon
its lower extremity. The figure wears a high-peaked open helmet, or
skull-cap, with a sort of tippet of mail attached to it, which falls
over the breast of the warrior, pretty much as women wear a
handkerchief or short shawl. This remarkable figure is bearded most
tyrannically, and has one hand on his long two-handed sword, the
other on his dirk, both of which hang at a broad belt. Another
weapon, probably his knife, seems to have been also attached to the
baldric. His feet rest on his two dogs entwined together, and a
similar emblem is said to have supported his head, but is now
defaced, as indeed the whole monument bears marks of the unfortunate
fire. A lion is placed at each end of the stone. Who the hero was,
whom this martial monument commemorated, we could not learn. Indeed,
our cicerone was but imperfect. He chanced to be a poor devil of an
excise-officer who had lately made a seizure of a still upon a
neighboring island, after a desperate resistance. Upon seeing our
cutter, he mistook it, as has often happened to us, for an armed
vessel belonging to the revenue, which the appearance and equipment
of the yacht, and the number of men, make her resemble considerably.
He was much disappointed when he found we had nothing to do with the
tribute to Cæsar, and begged us not to undeceive the natives, who
were so much irritated against him that he found it necessary to
wear a loaded pair of pistols in each pocket, which he showed to our
Master, Wilson, to convince him of the perilous state in which he
found himself while exercising so obnoxious a duty in the midst of a
fierce-tempered people, and at many miles' distance from any
possible countenance or assistance. The village of Rowdill consists
of Highland huts of the common construction, _i. e._, a low circular
wall of large stones, without mortar, deeply sunk in the ground,
surmounted by a thatched roof secured by ropes, without any chimney
but a hole in the roof. There may be forty such houses in the
village. We heard that the laird was procuring a schoolmaster--he of
the parish being ten miles distant--and there was a neatness about
the large house which seems to indicate that things are going on
well. Adjacent to the churchyard were two eminences, apparently
artificial. Upon one was fixed a stone, seemingly the staff of a
cross; upon another the head of a cross, with a sculpture of the
crucifixion. These monuments (which refer themselves to Catholic
times of course) are popularly called _The Croshlets_--crosslets, or
little crosses.
"Get on board at five, and stand across the Sound for Skye with the
ebb-tide in our favor. The sunset being delightful, we enjoy it upon
deck, admiring the Sound on each side bounded by islands. That of
Skye lies in the east, with some very high mountains in the centre,
and a bold rocky coast in front, opening up into several lochs, or
arms of the sea;--that of Loch Folliart, near the upper end of which
Dunvegan is situated, is opposite to us, but our breeze has failed
us, and the flood-tide will soon set in, which is likely to carry us
to the northward of this object of our curiosity until next morning.
To the west of us lies Harris, with its variegated ridges of
mountains, now clear, distinct, and free from clouds. The sun is
just setting behind the Island of Bernera, of which we see one
conical hill. North Uist and Benbecula continue from Harris to the
southerly line of what is called the Long Island. They are as bold
and mountainous, and probably as barren as Harris--worse they cannot
be. Unnumbered islets and holms, each of which has its name and its
history, skirt these larger isles, and are visible in this clear
evening as distinct and separate objects, lying lone and quiet upon
the face of the undisturbed and scarce rippling sea. To our berths
at ten, after admiring the scenery for some time.
"_23d August, 1814._--Wake under the Castle of Dunvegan, in the Loch
of Folliart. I had sent a card to the Laird of Macleod in the
morning, who came off before we were dressed, and carried us to his
castle to breakfast. A part of Dunvegan is very old; 'its birth
tradition notes not.' Another large tower was built by the same
Alaster Macleod whose burial-place and monument we saw yesterday at
Rowdill. He had a Gaelic surname, signifying the Hump-backed.
Roderick More (knighted by James VI.) erected a long edifice
combining these two ancient towers: and other pieces of building,
forming a square, were accomplished at different times. The whole
castle occupies a precipitous mass of rock overhanging the lake,
divided by two or three islands in that place, which form a snug
little harbor under the walls. There is a courtyard looking out upon
the sea, protected by a battery, at least a succession of
embrasures, for only two guns are pointed, and these unfit for
service. The ancient entrance rose up a flight of steps cut in the
rock, and passed into this courtyard through a portal, but this is
now demolished. You land under the castle, and walking round, find
yourself in front of it. This was originally inaccessible, for a
brook coming down on the one side, a chasm of the rocks on the
other, and a ditch in front, made it impervious. But the late
Macleod built a bridge over the stream, and the present laird is
executing an entrance suitable to the character of this remarkable
fortalice, by making a portal between two advanced towers and an
outer court, from which he proposes to throw a drawbridge over to
the high rock in front of the castle. This, if well executed, cannot
fail to have a good and characteristic effect. We were most kindly
and hospitably received by the chieftain, his lady, and his
sister;[84] the two last are pretty and accomplished young women, a
sort of persons whom we have not seen for some time; and I was quite
as much pleased with renewing my acquaintance with them as with the
sight of a good field of barley just cut (the first harvest we have
seen), not to mention an extensive young plantation and some
middle-aged trees, though all had been strangers to mine eyes since
I left Leith. In the garden--or rather the orchard which was
formerly the garden--is a pretty cascade, divided into two branches,
and called Rorie More's Nurse, because he loved to be lulled to
sleep by the sound of it. The day was rainy, or at least inconstant,
so we could not walk far from the castle. Besides the assistance of
the laird himself, who was most politely and easily attentive, we
had that of an intelligent gentlemanlike clergyman, Mr. Suter,
minister of Kilmore, to explain the _carte-de-pays_. Within the
castle we saw a remarkable drinking-cup, with an inscription dated
A. D. 993, which I have described particularly elsewhere.[85] I saw
also a fairy flag, a pennon of silk, with something like round red
rowan-berries wrought upon it. We also saw the drinking-horn of
Rorie More, holding about three pints English measure--an ox's horn
tipped with silver, not nearly so large as Watt of Harden's bugle.
The rest of the curiosities in the castle are chiefly Indian,
excepting an old dirk and the fragment of a two-handed sword. We
learn that most of the Highland superstitions, even that of the
second-sight, are still in force. Gruagach, a sort of tutelary
divinity, often mentioned by Martin in his history of the Western
Islands, has still his place and credit, but is modernized into a
tall man, always a Lowlander, with a long coat and white waistcoat.
Passed a very pleasant day. I should have said the fairy flag had
three properties: produced in battle, it multiplied the numbers of
the Macleods--spread on the nuptial bed, it insured fertility--and
lastly, it brought herring into the loch.[86]
"_24th August, 1814._--This morning resist with difficulty Macleod's
kind and pressing entreaty to send round the ship, and go to the
cave at Airds by land; but our party is too large to be accommodated
without inconvenience, and divisions are always awkward. Walk and
see Macleod's farm. The plantations seem to thrive admirably,
although I think he hazards planting his trees greatly too tall.
Macleod is a spirited and judicious improver, and if he does not
hurry too fast, cannot fail to be of service to his people. He seems
to think and act much like a chief, without the fanfaronade of the
character. See a female school patronized by Mrs. M. There are about
twenty girls, who learn reading, writing, and spinning; and being
compelled to observe habits of cleanliness and neatness when at
school, will probably be the means of introducing them by degrees at
home. The roads around the castle are, generally speaking, very
good; some are old, some made under the operation of the late act.
Macleod says almost all the contractors for these last roads have
failed, being tightly looked after by Government, which I confess I
think very right. If Government is to give relief where a
disadvantageous contract has been engaged in, it is plain it cannot
be refused in similar instances, so that all calculations of
expenses in such operations are at an end. The day being
delightfully fair and warm, we walk up to the Church of Kilmore. In
a cottage, at no great distance, we heard the women singing as they
_waulked_ the cloth, by rubbing it with their hands and feet, and
screaming all the while in a sort of chorus. At a distance, the
sound was wild and sweet enough, but rather discordant when you
approached too near the performers. In the churchyard (otherwise not
remarkable) was a pyramidical monument erected to the father of the
celebrated Simon, Lord Lovat, who was fostered at Dunvegan. It is
now nearly ruinous, and the inscription has fallen down. Return to
the castle, take our luncheon, and go aboard at three--Macleod
accompanying us in proper style with his piper. We take leave of the
castle, where we have been so kindly entertained, with a salute of
seven guns. The chief returns ashore, with his piper playing the
Macleod's Gathering, heard to advantage along the calm and placid
loch, and dying as it retreated from us.
"The towers of Dunvegan, with the banner which floated over them in
honor of their guests, now showed to great advantage. On the right
were a succession of three remarkable hills, with round flat tops,
popularly called Macleod's Dining-Tables. Far behind these, in the
interior of the island, arise the much higher and more romantic
mountains, called Quillen, or Cuillin, a name which they have been
said to owe to no less a person than Cuthullin, or Cuchullin,
celebrated by Ossian. I ought, I believe, to notice, that Macleod
and Mr. Suter have both heard a tacksman of Macleod's, called Grant,
recite the celebrated Address to the Sun; and another person, whom
they named, repeat the description of Cuchullin's car. But all agree
as to the gross infidelity of Macpherson as a translator and editor.
It ends in the explanation of the Adventures in the cave of
Montesinos, afforded to the Knight of La Mancha, by the ape of Gines
de Passamonte--some are true and some are false. There is little
poetical tradition in this country, yet there should be a great
deal, considering how lately the bards and genealogists existed as a
distinct order. Macleod's _hereditary_ piper is called MacCrimmon,
but the present holder of the office has risen above his profession.
He is an old man, a lieutenant in the army, and a most capital
piper, possessing about 200 tunes and pibrochs, most of which will
probably die with him, as he declines to have any of his sons
instructed in his art. He plays to Macleod and his lady, but only in
the same room, and maintains his minstrel privilege by putting on
his bonnet so soon as he begins to play. These MacCrimmons formerly
kept a college in Skye for teaching the pipe-music. Macleod's
present piper is of the name, but scarcely as yet a deacon of his
craft. He played every day at dinner.--After losing sight of the
Castle of Dunvegan, we open another branch of the loch on which it
is situated, and see a small village upon its distant bank. The
mountains of Quillen continue to form a background to the wild
landscape with their variegated and peaked outline. We approach
Dunvegan-head, a bold bluff cape, where the loch joins the ocean.
The weather, hitherto so beautiful that we had dined on deck _en
seigneurs_, becomes overcast and hazy, with little or no wind. Laugh
and lie down.
"_25th August, 1814._--Rise about eight o'clock, the yacht gliding
delightfully along the coast of Skye, with a fair wind and excellent
day. On the opposite side lie the islands of Canna, Rum, and Muick,
popularly Muck. On opening the sound between Rum and Canna, see a
steep circular rock, forming one side of the harbor, on the point of
which we can discern the remains of a tower of small dimensions,
built, it is said, by a King of the Isles to secure a wife of whom
he was jealous. But, as we kept the Skye side of the Sound, we saw
little of these islands but what our spy-glasses could show us. The
coast of Skye is highly romantic, and at the same time displayed a
richness of vegetation on the lower grounds, to which we have
hitherto been strangers. We passed three salt-water lochs, or deep
embayments, called Loch Bracadale, Loch Eynort, and Loch Britta--and
about eleven o'clock open Loch Scavig. We were now under the western
termination of the high mountains of Quillen, whose weather-beaten
and serrated peaks we had admired at a distance from Dunvegan. They
sunk here upon the sea, but with the same bold and peremptory aspect
which their distant appearance indicated. They seemed to consist of
precipitous sheets of naked rock, down which the torrents were
leaping in a hundred lines of foam. The tops, apparently
inaccessible to human foot, were rent and split into the most
tremendous pinnacles; towards the base of these bare and precipitous
crags, the ground, enriched by the soil washed away from them, is
verdant and productive. Having passed within the small isle of Soa,
we enter Loch Scavig under the shoulder of one of these grisly
mountains, and observe that the opposite side of the loch is of a
milder character softened down into steep green declivities. From
the depth of the bay advanced a headland of high rocks which divided
the lake into two recesses, from each of which a brook seemed to
issue. Here Macleod had intimated we should find a fine romantic
loch, but we were uncertain up what inlet we should proceed in
search of it. We chose, against our better judgment, the southerly
inlet, where we saw a house which might afford us information. On
manning our boat and rowing ashore, we observed a hurry among the
inhabitants, owing to our being as usual suspected for _king's men_,
although, Heaven knows, we have nothing to do with the revenue but
to spend the part of it corresponding to our equipment. We find that
there is a lake adjoining to each branch of the bay, and foolishly
walk a couple of miles to see that next the farmhouse, merely
because the honest man seemed jealous of the honor of his own loch,
though we were speedily convinced it was not that which we had been
recommended to examine. It had no peculiar merit excepting from its
neighborhood to a very high cliff or mountain of precipitous
granite; otherwise, the sheet of water does not equal even
Cauldshiels Loch. Returned and reëmbarked in our boat, for our
guide shook his head at our proposal to climb over the peninsula
which divides the two bays and the two lakes. In rowing round the
headland, surprised at the infinite number of sea-fowl, then busy
apparently with a shoal of fish; at the depth of the bay find that
the discharge from this second lake forms a sort of waterfall or
rather rapid; round this place were assembled hundreds of trout, and
salmon struggling to get up into the fresh water; with a net we
might have had twenty salmon at a haul, and a sailor, with no better
hook than a crooked pin, caught a dish of trouts, during our
absence.
"Advancing up this huddling and riotous brook, we found ourselves in
a most extraordinary scene: we were surrounded by hills of the
boldest and most precipitous character, and on the margin of a lake
which seemed to have sustained the constant ravages of torrents from
these rude neighbors. The shores consisted of huge layers of naked
granite, here and there intermixed with bogs, and heaps of gravel
and sand marking the course of torrents. Vegetation there was little
or none, and the mountains rose so perpendicularly from the water's
edge, that Borrowdale is a jest to them. We proceeded about one mile
and a half up this deep, dark, and solitary lake, which is about two
miles long, half a mile broad, and, as we learned, of extreme depth.
The vapor which enveloped the mountain ridges obliged us by assuming
a thousand shapes, varying its veils in all sorts of forms, but
sometimes clearing off altogether. It is true, it made us pay the
penalty by some heavy and downright showers, from the frequency of
which, a Highland boy, whom we brought from the farm, told us the
lake was popularly called the Water Kettle. The proper name is Loch
Corriskin, from the deep _corrie_ or hollow in the mountains of
Cuillin, which affords the basin for this wonderful sheet of water.
It is as exquisite as a savage scene, as Loch Katrine is as a scene
of stern beauty. After having penetrated so far as distinctly to
observe the termination of the lake, under an immense mountain which
rises abruptly from the head of the waters, we returned, and often
stopped to admire the ravages which storms must have made in these
recesses when all human witnesses were driven to places of more
shelter and security. Stones, or rather large massive fragments of
rock of a composite kind, perfectly different from the granite
barriers of the lake, lay upon the rocky beach in the strangest and
most precarious situations, as if abandoned by the torrents which
had borne them down from above; some lay loose and tottering upon
the ledges of the natural rock, with so little security that the
slightest push moved them, though their weight exceeded many tons.
These detached rocks were chiefly what are called plum-pudding
stones. Those which formed the shore were granite. The opposite side
of the lake seemed quite pathless, as a huge mountain, one of the
detached ridges of the Quillen, sinks in a profound and almost
perpendicular precipice down to the water. On the left-hand side,
which we traversed, rose a higher and equally inaccessible mountain,
the top of which seemed to contain the crater of an exhausted
volcano. I never saw a spot on which there was less appearance of
vegetation of any kind; the eye rested on nothing but brown and
naked crags,[87] and the rocks on which we walked by the side of the
loch were as bare as the pavement of Cheapside. There are one or two
spots of islets in the loch which seem to bear juniper, or some such
low bushy shrub.
"Returned from our extraordinary walk and went on board. During
dinner, our vessel quitted Loch Scavig, and having doubled its
southern cape, opened the bay or salt-water Loch of Sleapin. There
went again on shore to visit the late discovered and much celebrated
cavern, called Macallister's cave. It opens at the end of a deep
ravine running upward from the sea, and the proprietor, Mr.
Macallister of Strath Aird, finding that visitors injured it, by
breaking and carrying away the stalactites with which it abounds,
has secured this cavern by an eight or nine feet wall, with a door.
Upon inquiring for the key, we found it was three miles up the loch
at the laird's house. It was now late, and to stay until a messenger
had gone and returned three miles, was not to be thought of, any
more than the alternative of going up the loch and lying there all
night. We therefore, with regret, resolved to scale the wall, in
which attempt, by the assistance of a rope and some ancient
acquaintance with orchard breaking, we easily succeeded. The first
entrance to this celebrated cave is rude and unpromising, but the
light of the torches with which we were provided is soon reflected
from roof, floor, and walls, which seem as if they were sheeted with
marble, partly smooth, partly rough with frost-work and rustic
ornaments, and partly wrought into statuary. The floor forms a steep
and difficult ascent, and might be fancifully compared to a sheet of
water, which, while it rushed whitening and foaming down a
declivity, had been suddenly arrested and consolidated by the spell
of an enchanter. Upon attaining the summit of this ascent, the cave
descends with equal rapidity to the brink of a pool of the most
limpid water, about four or five yards broad. There opens beyond
this pool a portal arch, with beautiful white chasing upon the
sides, which promises a continuation of the cave. One of our sailors
swam across, for there was no other mode of passing, and informed us
(as indeed we partly saw by the light he carried), that the
enchantment of Macallister's cave terminated with this portal,
beyond which there was only a rude ordinary cavern speedily choked
with stones and earth. But the pool, on the brink of which we stood,
surrounded by the most fanciful mouldings in a substance resembling
white marble, and distinguished by the depth and purity of its
waters, might be the bathing grotto of a Naiad. I think a statuary
might catch beautiful hints from the fanciful and romantic
disposition of the stalactites. There is scarce a form or group that
an active fancy may not trace among the grotesque ornaments which
have been gradually moulded in this cavern by the dropping of the
calcareous water, and its hardening into petrifactions; many of
these have been destroyed by the senseless rage of appropriation
among recent tourists, and the grotto has lost (I am informed),
through the smoke of torches, much of that vivid silver tint which
was originally one of its chief distinctions. But enough of beauty
remains to compensate for all that may be lost. As the easiest mode
of return, I slid down the polished sheet of marble which forms the
rising ascent, and thereby injured my pantaloons in a way which my
jacket is ill calculated to conceal. Our wearables, after a month's
hard service, begin to be frail, and there are daily demands for
repairs. Our eatables also begin to assume a real nautical
appearance--no soft bread--milk a rare commodity--and those
gentlemen most in favor with John Peters, the steward, who prefer
salt beef to fresh. To make amends, we never hear of sea-sickness,
and the good-humor and harmony of the party continue uninterrupted.
When we left the cave we carried off two grandsons of Mr.
Macallister's, remarkably fine boys; and Erskine, who may be called
_L'ami des Enfans_, treated them most kindly, and showed them all
the curiosities in the vessel, causing even the guns to be fired for
their amusement, besides filling their pockets with almonds and
raisins. So that, with a handsome letter of apology, I hope we may
erase any evil impression Mr. Macallister may adopt from our
storming the exterior defences of his cavern. After having sent them
ashore in safety, stand out of the bay with little or no wind, for
the opposite island of Egg."
Footnotes of the Chapter XXXI.
[83: The Harris has recently passed into the possession of
the Earl of Dunmore.--(1839.)]
[84: Miss Macleod, now Mrs. Spencer Perceval.]
[85: See Note, _Lord of the Isles_, Scott's _Poetical
Works_, vol. x. p. 294 [Cambridge Ed. p. 558].]
[86: The following passage, from the last of Scott's _Letters on
Demonology_ (written in 1830), refers to the night of this 23d of
August, 1814. He mentions that twice in his life he had experienced the
sensation which the Scotch call _eerie_: gives a night-piece of his
early youth in the castle of Glammis, which has already been quoted
(_ante_, vol. i. p. 197), and proceeds thus: "Amid such tales of ancient
tradition, I had from Macleod and his lady the courteous offer of the
haunted apartment of the castle, about which, as a stranger, I might be
supposed interested. Accordingly I took possession of it about the
witching hour. Except, perhaps, some tapestry hangings, and the extreme
thickness of the walls, which argued great antiquity, nothing could have
been more comfortable than the interior of the apartment; but if you
looked from the windows, the view was such as to correspond with the
highest tone of superstition. An autumnal blast, sometimes clear,
sometimes driving mist before it, swept along the troubled billows of
the lake, which it occasionally concealed, and by fits disclosed. The
waves rushed in wild disorder on the shore, and covered with foam the
steep pile of rocks, which, rising from the sea in forms something
resembling the human figure, have obtained the name of Macleod's
Maidens, and, in such a night, seemed no bad representative of the
Norwegian goddesses, called Choosers of the Slain, or Riders of the
Storm. There was something of the dignity of danger in the scene; for,
on a platform beneath the windows, lay an ancient battery of cannon,
which had sometimes been used against privateers even of late years. The
distant scene was a view of that part of the Quillen mountains, which
are called, from their form, Macleod's Dining-Tables. The voice of an
angry cascade, termed the Nurse of Rorie Mhor, because that chief slept
best in its vicinity, was heard from time to time mingling its notes
with those of wind and wave. Such was the haunted room at Dunvegan; and,
as such, it well deserved a less sleepy inhabitant. In the language of
Dr. Johnson, who has stamped his memory on this remote place,--'I looked
around me, and wondered that I was not more affected; but the mind is
not at all times equally ready to be moved.' In a word, it is necessary
to confess that, of all I heard or saw, the most engaging spectacle was
the comfortable bed in which I hoped to make amends for some rough
nights on shipboard, and where I slept accordingly without thinking of
ghost or goblin, till I was called by my servant in the morning."]
[87:
"Rarely human eye has known
A scene so stern as that dread lake,
With its dark ledge of barren stone.
Seems that primeval earthquake's sway
Hath rent a strange and shatter'd way
Through the rude bosom of the hill,
And that each naked precipice,
Sable ravine, and dark abyss,
Tells of the outrage still.
The wildest glen, but this, can show
Some touch of Nature's genial glow;
On high Benmore green mosses grow,
And heath-bells bud in deep Glencroe,
And copse on Cruchan-Ben;
But here--above, around, below,
On mountain or in glen,
Nor tree, nor shrub, nor plant, nor flower,
Nor aught of vegetative power,
The weary eye may ken;
For all is rocks at random thrown,
Black waves, bare crags, and banks of stone,
As if were here denied
The summer's sun, the spring's sweet dew,
That clothe with many a varied hue
The bleakest mountain-side."
_Lord of the Isles_, iii. 14.]