The Indian, as twilight was fading away,
Would start when his ear caught thy sorrowful lay,
And deeming thy note the precursor of wo,
Would arm for the sudden approach of the foe;
But I list to thy wild, fitful hymn with delight,
While the pale stars are winking, lone minstrel of night!
Brightest month of the year! when thy chaplet grows pale,
I shall mourn, for the bearer of health is thy gale:
The pearl that young Beauty weaves in her dark hair,
In clearness can ne'er with thy waters compare;
Nor yet can the ruby or amethyst vie
With the tint of thy rose, or the hue of thy sky!
H.
[RANDOM PASSAGES]
FROM ROUGH NOTES OF A VISIT TO ENGLAND, SCOTLAND, FRANCE, SWITZERLAND, AND GERMANY
NUMBER THREE.
THE HIGHLANDS—PERTH, STIRLING, ETC.
Tuesday, June 15.—At 7 o'clock, on a fine morning, I left Edinburgh for the lakes and highlands. My route for the day was the same as that of the Antiquary and Lovel. The coach, however, was much more prompt than in the days of Mrs. Macleuchar, and started off while the clock of St. Giles was striking, from Waterloo-place instead of High-street. Arrived at Queensferry, seven miles, after a beautiful ride, modern improvements were again visible; for, instead of having to wait for the tide, as did Oldbuck and his friend, we drove down a stone pier, at the end of which the water is always deep enough, and transferring our luggage and ourselves to a sail-boat just sufficiently large to contain the coach's company, guard, and coachee included, the canvass was spread, and in a few minutes we were at North Queensferry, on the other side of the Frith of Forth. Here we breakfasted; the landlord, who could produce a dinner 'peremtorie,' has been succeeded by one who has it already on the table at the moment the coach drives up.