TO THE BUTTERFLY. CHILD of the sun! pursue thy rapturous flight, -Yet wert thou once a worm, a thing that crept WRITTEN IN THE HIGHLANDS OF SCOTLAND, SEPTEMBER 2, 1812. BLUE was the loch, the clouds were gone, Ben-Lomond in his glory shone, When, Luss, I left thee; when the breeze Bore me from thy silver sands, Thy kirk-yard wall among the trees, Where, gray with age, the dial stands ; That dial so well known to me! -Tho' many a shadow it had shed, The legend on the stone was read. His arm that fell below his knee, His cattle-ford and mountain-hold. Tarbat,* thy shore I climbed at last; And, thy shady region passed, And looked upon another flood ;† * Signifying in the Gaelic language an Isthmus. Where many an elf was playing round, Night fell; and dark and darker grew That narrow sea, that narrow sky, As o'er the glimmering waves we flew ; The shattered fortress, whence the Dane All into midnight-shadow sweep— When day springs upward from the deep!* Kindling the waters in its flight, The prow wakes splendour; and the oar, That rose and fell unseen before, Flashes in a sea of light! * A phenomenon described by many navigators. Glad sign and sure! for now we hail And crosses decked thy summits blue. Oft shall my weary mind recall, AN INSCRIPTION IN THE CRIMEA. SHEPHERD, or Huntsman, or worn Mariner, Whate'er thou art, who wouldst allay thy thirst, Drink and be glad. This cistern of white stone, Arched, and o'erwrought with many a sacred verse, This iron cup chained for the general use, And these rude seats of Earth within the grove, Were given by FATIMA. Borne hence a bride, The two small cells scooped in the marble there, * 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 with 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. A Turkish superstition. |