Thy kirk-yard wall among the trees, The fairy-isles fled far away; Tarbat,* thy shore I climbed at last; And, thy shady region passed, Upon another shore I stood, And looked upon another flood;† Great Ocean's self! ('Tis He who fills That vast and awful depth of hills ;) Where many an elf was playing round, Who treads unshod his classic ground; And speaks, his native rocks among, AS FINGAL spoke, and OssIAN sung. * Signifying in the Gaelic language an Isthmus. † Loch-long. Night fell; and dark and darker grew When day springs upward from the deep! * Glad sign, and sure! for now we hail * A phenomenon described by many navigators. PP Oft, like some loved romantic tale, Oft shall my weary mind recall, Amid the hum and stir of men, Thy beechen grove and waterfall, Thy ferry with its gliding sail, And Her-the Lady of the Glen! AN INSCRIPTION. IN THE CRIMEA. SHEPHERD, or Huntsman, or worn Mariner, * There is a beautiful story, delivered down to us from antiquity, which will here perhaps occur to the reader. Icarius, when he gave Penelope in marriage to Ulysses, endeavoured to persuade him to dwell in Lacedæmon; and, when all he urged was to no purpose, he entreated his daughter to remain with him. When Ulysses set out with his bride for Ithaca, the old man followed the chariot, till, overcome by his importunity, Ulysses consented that it should be left to Penelope to decide whether she would proceed with him or return with her father. It is related, says Pausanias, that she made no reply, but that she covered herself with her veil; and that Icarius, perceiving at once by it that she inclined to Ulysses, suffered her to depart with him. A statue was afterwards placed by her father as a memorial in that part of the road where she had covered herself with her veil. It was still standing there in the days of Pausanias, and was called the statue of Modesty. ('Tis not far off) visit his tomb with flowers; The two small cells scooped in the marble there, AN INSCRIPTION FOR A TEMPLE DEDICATED TO THE GRACES.† APPROACH with reverence. There are those within, Whose dwelling-place is Heaven. Daughters of Jove, From them flow all the decencies of Life; Without them nothing pleases, Virtue's self Admired not loved: and those on whom They smile, Great though they be, and wise, and beautiful, Shine forth with double lustre. * A Turkish Superstition. † At Woburn-Abbey. |