Scenes and legends of the north of Scotland

by Hugh Miller

Or stormy ocean’s noise.

It roars, and rolls, and hills do shake,

And heavens do seem to rend;

And should the fierce unquenchéd flame

Through the dark clouds descend,

Like clay ’twould grind the hardest rocks,

Like dust the strongest brass,

And prostrate pride and strength of man

Like pride and strength of grass.

And now the broken clouds fall down