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Unbounded is thy range; with varied skill Thy Muse may, like those feathery tribes which spring Froin their rude rocks, extend her skirting wing Round the moist niarge of each cold Hebrid isle, To that hoar pile which still its ruin shows ; In whose small vaults a Pigmy-folk* is found, Whose bones the delver with his spade upthrows, And culls them, wond'ring, from the hallow'd ground! Or thither,t where, beneath the showery west, The mighty kings of three fair realms are laid: Once foes, perhaps, together now they rest, No slaves revere them, and no wars invade: Yet frequent now at midnight solemn hour, The rifted inounds their yawning cells old, And forth the monarchs stalk with sovereign power,
In pageant robes, and wreatli’d with sheeny gold, And on their twilight tombs aërial council hold.
But 0! o'er all, forget not Kilda's race, On whose bleak rocks, which brave the washing tides, Fair Nature's daughter, Virtue, yet abides ; Go, just as they, their blameless manners trace! Then to my ear transmit some gentle song Of those whose lives are yet sincere and plain ;
* One of the Hebrides is called the isle of Pigmies : it is reported that soveral miniature bones of the human species have been dug up in the ruins of a chapel there.
† Icolmkill, one of the Hebrides, where near sixty of the aucicut Scottish, Irish, and Norweg'an kings are interred.
Their bounded walks the rugged cliffs along,
Hard is their shallow soil, and bleak, and bare,
Nor need'st thou blush that such false themes engage Thy gentle mind, of fairer storeš possest; For not alone they touch the village breast, But fill'd in elder time the historic page. There Shakspeare's self, which every garland crown'd, Flew to those fairy climes his fancy sheen ; In musing hour his wayward sisters found, And with their terrors drest the magic scene; From them he sung, when, 'mid his bold design, Before the Scot, afflicted and aghast, The shadowy kings of Banquo's fated line Thro' the dark cave in gleamy pageant past. Proceed; nor quit the tales which, simply told, Could once so well my answering bosom pierce;
* An aquatic bird, like a googe; on the eggs of wbich the inhabitants of St. Kilda often subsist.
Proceed, in forceful sounds and colour bold,
The native legends of thy land rehearse ;
In scenes like these, which, daring to depart
Melting it flows, pure, murmuring, strong, and clear,
All hail, ye scenes, that o'er my soul prevail! Ye splendid friths and lakes, which, far away, Are by smooth Annan" fill’d, or pastoral Tay, Or Don's* romantic springs, at distance hail!
*** Three rirers in Scotland.
The time shall come, when I, perhaps, may tread
To him I lose your kind protection lend,
* Ben Jonson paid a visit on foot, in 1619, to the Scotch poet, Drummond, at his seat of Hawthornden, within 4 miles of Edinburgh.
Barrow, it seems, was at Edinburgh University, which is in the county of Lothian.
These popular superstitions are enumerated with equal taste and knowledge of the subject. The information is chiefly taken from Martin's. Description of the Western Islands of Scotland, published 1703.-B.
SU LA TOMBA DI FEDELE.
[FROM G. B. MARTELLT.]
I freschi doni eterei
Di Flora e i molli odori
E i semplici pastori,
Su questa tomba erbosa,
Il muto cener posa
Garzon, Fedel nomata,
Stame recise il fato.
Allor che il mondo tace,
Non turberà la pace :
Ignota fia quest' urna ;
La lor schiera notturna.
Faran l'avello intorno