Homeward we turn. Isle of Columba's Cell,
Where Christian piety's soul-cheering spark
(Kindled from Heaven between the light and dark
Of time) shone like the morning-star, farewell!—
And fare thee well, to Fancy visible, 5
Remote St. Kilda, lone and loved sea-mark[927]
For many a voyage made in her swift bark,[928]
When with more hues than in the rainbow dwell
Thou a mysterious intercourse dost hold,
Extracting from clear skies and air serene, 10
And out of sun-bright waves, a lucid veil,
That thickens, spreads, and, mingling fold with fold,
Makes known, when thou no longer canst be seen,
Thy whereabout, to warn the approaching sail.
FOOTNOTES:
[927] St. Kilda is sixty miles to the north-west of Harris, in the Outer Hebrides.—Ed.
[928] 1837.
... farewell!—
Remote St. Kilda, art thou visible?
No—but farewell to thee, beloved sea-mark
From many a voyage made in Fancy's bark, 1835.
XXXVI
GREENOCK
Per me si va nella Città dolente.[929]
We have not passed into a doleful City,
We who were led to-day down a grim dell,
By some too boldly named "the Jaws of Hell:"[930]
Where be the wretched ones, the sights for pity?
These crowded streets resound no plaintive ditty:— 5
As from the hive where bees in summer dwell,
Sorrow seems here excluded; and that knell,
It neither damps the gay, nor checks the witty.
Alas! too busy Rival of old Tyre,[931]
Whose merchants Princes were, whose decks were thrones;
Soon may the punctual sea in vain respire 11
To serve thy need, in union with that Clyde
Whose nursling current brawls o'er mossy stones,[932]
The poor, the lonely, herdsman's joy and pride.