By palace, village, cot, a sweet surprise
At every turn the vision breaks upon;
Till to our wondering and uplifted eyes
The Highland rocks and hills in solemn grandeur rise.
"Nor clouds in heaven, nor billows in the deep,
More graceful shapes did ever heave or roll;
Nor came such pictures to a painter's sleep,
Nor beam'd such visions on a poet's soul!
The pent-up flood, impatient of control,
In ages past here broke its granite bound,