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A Highland boy !-why call him so ?
He from his birth had lived.
Then hurries back the road it came
As long as earth shall last.
Bring tales of distant lands.
. Or wonders of the deep. Yet more it pleased him, more it stirred, When from the water-side he heard The shouting, and the jolly cheers, The bustle of the mariners
In stillness or in storm.
He ne'er had seen one earthly sight:
Or woman, man, or child.
Of which we nothing know.
And more than mother's love.
Went hand in hand with her.
Without a better guide. And then the bagpipes he could blow; find thus from house to house would go, And all were pleased to hear and see ; For none made sweeter melody
Than did the poor blind boy. Yet he had many a restless dream ; Both when he heard the eagles scream, And when he heard the torrents roar, And heard the water beat the shore
Near which their cottage stood. Beside a lake their cottage stood, Not small like ours, a peaceful flood; But one of mighty size, and strange ; That, rough or smooth, is full of change,
And stirring in its bed. For to this lake by night and day, The great sea-water finds its way Through long, long windings of the hills ; And drinks up all the pretty rills,
And rivers large and strong :
But what do his desires avail?
Upon the rocking waves.
The danger is so great."
Till he was ten years old.
Towards the mighty sea.
For death will be his doom.
Are brought in ships from far.
Such gifts had those seafaring men
But when he was first seen, oh, me,
She saw her poor blind boy.
But for the child, the sightless boy,
The bravest traveller in balloon,
Mounting as is to reach the moon,
Was never balf so blessed.
And let him, let him go his way,
On the forlorn unfortunate,
This child will take no harm.
Which from the crowd on shore was sent, Had heard, how in a shell like this
The cries which broke from old and young An English boy, oh, thought of bliss ! In Gaelic, or the English tongue, Had stoutly launched from shore ;
Are stifled-all is still. Launched from the margin of a bay And quickly with a silent crew Among the Indian isles, where lay
A boat is ready to pursue ;
And swiftly down the running lake
They follow the blind boy.
But soon they move with softer pace ;
With deftly-lifted oar.
prey. He launched his vessel- and in pride With sound the least that') be made Of spirit, from Loch Leven's side,
They follow, more and mort afraid, Stepped into it-his thoughts all free More cautious as they draw more near As the light breezes that with glee
But in his darkness he can hear,
And guesses their intent.
Lei-gha-Lei-gha"-then did he cry, He felt the motion-took his seat ;
· Lei-gha-Lei-gha -most eagerly ; Still better pleased as more and more Thus did he cry, and thus did pray, The tide retreated from the shore,
And what he meant was, “Keep away, And sucked and sucked him in.
And leave me to myself !" And there he is in face of heaven!
Alas! and when he felt their hands How rapidly the child is driven !
You've often heard of magic wands, The fourth part of a mile I ween
That with a motion overthrow He thus had gone, ere he was seen A palace of the proudest show, By any human eye.
Or melt it into air.
So all his dreams, that inward light
As he had ever known.
But most of all, his mother dear,
And touches the blind boy.
She was too happy far.
But hark ! a gratulating voice
That he is safe at last.
And welcomed the poor child.
With sound like lamentation.
Thus, after he had fondly braved
To live in peace on shore.
And how he was preserved."
Memorials of a Tour in Scotland.
Where tapers burned, and mass was sung. THE BROWNIE'S CELL.
For them whose timid spirits clung (Suggested by a beautiful ruin upon one of the To mortal succour, though the tomb
islands of Loch Lomond, a place chosen for Had fixed, for ever fixed, their doom ! the retreat of a solitary individual from whom this habitation acquired its name.]
Upon those servants of another world
When maddening power her bolts had To barren heath and quaking fen,
hurled, Or depth of labyrinthine glen ;
Their habitation shook ;-it fell, Or into trackless forest set
And perished-save one narrow cell ; With trees, whose lofty umbrage met ;
Whither, at length, a wretch retired : World-wearied men withdrew of yore, -
Who neither grovelled nor aspired : (Penance their trust, and prayer their store;) He, struggling in the net of pride, And in the wilderness were bound
The future scorned, the past defied ;
* It is recorded in Dampier's Voyages, that a
boy, the son of a captain of a man-of-war, High lodged the warrior, like a bird of seated himself in a turtle shell, and floated in it prey ;
from the shore to his father's ship, which lay at Or where broad waters round him lay ; anchor at the distance of half a mile. In defeBut this wild ruin is no ghost
rence to the opinion of a friend, I have substi
tuted such a shell for the less elegant vessel in Of his devices-buried, lost !
which my blind voyager did actually intrust Within this little lonely isle
himself to the dangerous current of Loch Leven, There stood a consecrated pile ;
as was related to me by an eye-witness
Still tempering from the unguilty forge Spring finds not here a melancholy breast, Of vain conceit, an iron scourge!
When she applies her annual test
To dead and living ; when her breath Proud remnant was he of a fearless race,
Quickens, as now, the withered heath ;Who stood and flourished face to face
Nor flaunting summer-when he throws With their perennial hills : ---but crime His soul into the briar-rose : Hastening the stern decrees of time,
Or calls the lily from her sleep ; Brought low a power, which from its home Prolonged beneath the bordering deep : Burst when repose grew wearisome; Nor autumn, when the viewless wren And taking impulse from the sword,
Is warbling near the Brownie's den. And mocking its own plighted word, Had found, in ravage widely dealt Wild relique ! beauteous as the chosen spot Its warfare's bourne, its travel's belt ! In Nysa's isle, the embellished grot;
Whither by care of Libyan Jove All, all were dispossessed, save him whose | (High servant of paternal love). smile
Young Bacchus was conveyed--to lie Shot lightning through this lonely isle ! Safe from his step-dame Rhea's eye ; No right had he but what he made Where bud, and bloom, and fruitage, To this small spot, his leafy shade ;
glowed, But the ground lay within that ring
Close crowding round the infant god,
All colours, and the liveliest streak
COMPOSED AT CORRA I.INN. From year to year this shaggy mortal went
IN SIGHT OF WALLACE'S TOWER. (So seemed it) down a strange descent; Till they, who saw his outward frame, “How Wallace fought for Scotland, left the Fixed on him an unhallowed name ; Him-free from all malicious taint, Of Wallace to be found, like a wild flower, And guiding, like the Patmos saint, All over his dear country : left the deeds A pen unwearied-to indite,
Or Wallace, like a family of ghosts,
To people the steep rocks and river banks, In his lone isle, the dreams of night ;
Her natural sanctuaries, with a local soul Impassioned dreams, that strove to span Of independence and stern liberty"-MS. The faded glories of his clan ! Suns that through blood their western har- The dullest leaf in this thick wood
Lord of the vale ! astounding flood ! bour sought,
Quakes-conscious of thy power ; And stars that in their courses fought,
The caves reply with hollow moan ; Towers rent, windscombating with woods
And vibrates to its central stone,
Yon time-cemented tower !
And yet how fair the rural scene !
For thou, O Clyde, hast ever been
Beneficent as strong ;
The little trembling flowers that peep
Thy shelving rocks among.
(toad, Hence all who love their country, love The otter crouching undisturbed,
To look on thee-delight to rove
And, to the patriot warrior's shade,
Lord of the vale ! to heroes laid
In dust, that voice is dear!
Sweeps visibly the Wallace wight;
Or stands in warlike vest,
What! Ossian here—a painted thrall,
To serve, an unsuspected screen
For show that must not yet be seen :
And, when the moment comes, to part But clouds and envious darkness hide And vanish by mysterious art ; A form not doubtfully descried :
Head, harp, and body, split asunder, Their transient mission o'er,
For ingress to a world of wonder ;
A Oh, say to what blind region flee
gay saloon, with waters dancing These shapes of awful phantasy?
Upon the sight wherever glancing: To what untrodden shore?
One loud cascade in front, and lo!
A thousand like it, white as snowLess than divine command they spurn;
Streams on the walls, and torrents foam But this we from the mountains learn, As active round the hollow dome, And this the valleys show,
Illusive cataracts! of their terrors That never will they deign to hold
Not stript, nor voiceless in the mirrors, Communion where the heart is cold That catch the pageant from the flood To human weal and woe.
Thundering adown a rocky wood !
Strange scene, fantastic and uneasy The man of abject soul in vain
As ever made a maniac dizzy, Shall walk the Marathonian plain ;
When disenchanted from the mood Or thrid the shadowy gloom,
That loves on sullen thoughts to brood ! That still invests the guardian pass Where stood, sublime, Leonidas,
O nature, in thy changeful visions, Devoted to the tomb.
Through all thy most abrupt transitions,
Smooth, graceful, tender, or sublime, Nor deem that it can aught avail
Ever averse to pantomime, For such to glide with oar or sail
Thee neither do they know nor us Beneath the piny wood,
Thy servants, who can trifle thus ;
Exalted by congenial sway
And names that moulder not away,
Awakened some redeeming thought
More worthy of this favoured spot ; IN THE PLEASURE-GROUND ON THE
Recalled some feeling-to set free BANKS OF THE BRAN, NEAR DUNKELD. The bard from such indignity! The waterfall, by a loud roaring, warned us when we must expect it. We were first, how- The effigies of a valiant wight* ever, conducted into a small apartment, where I once beheld, a Templar knight ; the gardener desired us to look at the picture Not prostrate, not like those that rest of Ossian, which, while he was telling, the On tombs, with palms together pressed, history of the young artist who executed the work, disappeared, parting in the middle
But sculptured out of living stone, flying asunder as by the touch of magic-and And standing upright and alone, lo! we are at the entrance of a splendid apart. Both hands with rival energy ment, which was almost dizzy and alive with Employed in setting his sword free waterfalls, that tumbled in all directions : the From its dull sheath-stern sentinel great cascade, opposite the window, which Intent to guard St. Robert's cell ; faced us, being reflected in innumerable mirrors As if with
memory of the affray upon the ceiling and against the walls." Extract from the Journal of my Fellow. Far distant, when, as legends say, Traveller
The monks of Fountains thronged :: What he-who 'mid he kindred throng
force Of heroes that inspired his song,
From its dear home the hermit's corse,
* On the banks of the river Nid, near Knaresborough