That, peak by peak, would each be lord
Around the Dhuloch's icy marge:

In vain; for thanks to thee the ford
Is banked by many a gleaming targe;
The Campbells waiting with the sword!

Dunmore.

THE MAID OF DUNMORE.

James Payn.

CAPTIVE maid pined in the tower of Dunmore.

A Fall high was its gate, closely barred was the door.

Her sighs unregarded, her prison unknown,

Far from kinsmen and lover she languished alone.
But a little bird sang at this fair captive's grate,
And seemed, as it chirruped, to soften her fate.
Ah! Flora, fair Flora, - ah! Flora Macdonald!
Ah! Flora, the maid of Dunmore,
The maid of Dunmore, the maid of Dunmore,
Ah! weep for the maid, the maid of Dunmore!

The maid tied a note to this little bird's neck,
And pointed to home, like a far distant speck.
O'er land and o'er water away the bird flew,
Sought kinsman and lover; - the courier they knew;
But soon a brave knight burst the prison-house door,
And rescued his bride from the tower of Dunmore.
Ah! Flora, fair Flora, ah! Flora Macdonald!
Ah! Flora, the maid of Dunmore, -
The maid of Dunmore, the maid of Dunmore,
Ah! joy to the maid, the maid of Dunmore!

Anonymous.

DUNMORE.

ILIE, in vision, on thy top, Dunmore,

Dearest to me of all old Scotland's hills,
And see not the well-known delicious view,
The little village with its peaceful spire,
The rivers three, piercing the plain and woods,
To meet and marry at yon simple bridge;
Abruchill Castle, like a silver spot

Spilt by the sun among the night-like hills,
And, shining there in light unquenchable,
The gorge of terror where a fiend inclosed
In "hell of waters" howls forevermore,
Amid thick woods and torture-riven chasms;
Glenlednick's deep and solitary glen
Returning ever a wild torrent's voice,
Protesting 'gainst the Caldron's agony,
To which resistlessly 't is hurried on;

The long-loved vale through which Kilmeny went
Alone, through flowery heath and feathered birch,
To meet the visions of celestial day.

Loch Earn seen scarcely at the utmost edge,
Like a blue breach amidst the clouds of eve,
And over it, at twilight, huge Benmore,
A purple pillar propping the red sky.

George Gilfillan.

DTS

Dunolly Castle.

EAGLES.

ISHONORED rock and ruin! that, by law Tyrannic, keep the bird of Jove embarred. Like a lone criminal whose life is spared. Vexed is he, and screams loud. The last I saw Was on the wing; stooping, he struck with awe Man, bird, and beast; then, with a consort paired, From a bold headland, their loved eyrie's guard, Flew high above Atlantic waves, to draw Light from the fountain of the setting sun. Such was this prisoner once; and when his plumes The sea-blast ruffles as the storm comes on, Then, for a moment, he in spirit resumes His rank 'mong freeborn creatures that live free, His power, his beauty, and his majesty.

William Wordsworth.

THE

ON REVISITING DUNOLLY CASTLE.

HE captive bird was gone; to cliff or moor Perchance had flown, delivered by the storm; Or he had pined, and sunk to feed the worm: Him found we not; but, climbing a tall tower, There saw, impaved with rude fidelity

Of art mosaic, in a roofless floor,

An eagle with stretched wings, but beamless eye,
An eagle that could neither wail nor soar.
Effigy of the vanished, (shall I dare

To call thee so?) or symbol of fierce deeds
And of the towering courage which past times
Rejoiced in, take, whate'er thou be, a share,
Not undeserved, of the memorial rhymes
That animate my way where'er it leads!

William Wordsworth.

Dunoon.

DUNOON.

EE the glow-worm lits her fairy lamp

SEE

From a beam of the rising moon,
On the heathy shore at evening fall,
"Twixt Holy-Loch and dark Dunoon;
Her fairy lamp's pale silvery glare,

From the dew-clad moorland flower,
Invites my wandering footsteps there,
At the lonely twilight hour.

When the distant beacon's revolving light

Bids my lone steps seek the shore,
There the rush of the flow-tide's rippling wave
Meets the dash of the fisher's oar;

And the dim-seen steamboat's hollow sound,
As she seaward tracks her way;

All else are asleep in the still calm night,
And robed in the misty gray.

When the glow-worm lits her elfin lamp,
And the night breeze sweeps the hill,
It's sweet, on thy rock-bound shores, Dunoon,
To wander at fancy's will.

Eliza! with thee, in this solitude,

Life's cares would pass away,

Like the fleecy clouds over gray Kilmun,

At the wake of early day.

Thomas Lyle.

M

Dunsinane Castle.

DUNSINANE.

ACBETH. Hang out our banners! on the out-
ward walls

The cry is still, They come ! -Our Castle's strength
Will laugh a siege to scorn; here let them lie,
Till famine and the ague eat them up.

Were they not 'forc'd with those that should be ours,
We might have met them dareful, beard to beard,
And beat them backward home. - What is that noise?

A cry within, of women.

SEYTON. It is the cry of women, my good lord. MACB. I have almost forgot the taste of fears. The time has been, my senses would have quail'd