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TO THE BUTTERFLY.
Child of the sun! pursue thy rapturous flight,
Yet wert thou once a worm, a thing that crept
BLUE was the loch, the clouds were gone,
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;t 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.
Night fell; and dark and darker grew
Oh blest retreat and sacred too!
* A phenomenon described by many navigators.