Aloft on native pillars borne,
Of mountain fir, with bark unshorn,
Where Ellen’s hand had taught to twine
The ivy and Idæan vine,[64]
The clematis, the favor’d flower
Which boasts the name of virgin bower,
And every hardy plant could[65] bear
Loch Katrine’s keen and searching air.
An instant in this porch she staid,
And gayly to the stranger said,