And in the lonely Highland dell
Still do they keep the Turtle-shell;
And long the story will repeat
Of the blind Boy's adventurous feat,
And how he was preserved.

Note.

It is recorded in Dampier's Voyages, that a boy, son of the captain of a Man-of-War, seated himself in a Turtle-shell, and floated in it from the shore to his father's ship, which lay at anchor at the distance of half a mile. In deference to the opinion of a Friend, I have substituted such a shell for the less elegant vessel in which my blind Voyager did actually intrust himself to the dangerous current of Loch Leven, as was related to me by an eyewitness

MEMORIALS OF A TOUR IN

SCOTLAND.

1814.

I.

BUGGESTED, BY A BEAUTIFUL RUIN UPON ONE OF THE ISLANDS OF LOCH LOMOND, A PLACE CHOSEN FOR THE RETREAT OF A SOLITARY INDIVIDUAL, FROM WHOM THIS HABITATION ACQUIRED THE NAME OF

THE BROWNIE'S CELL.

I.

To barren heath, bleak moor, and quaking fen, Or depth of labyrinthine glen;

Or into trackless forest set

With trees, whose lofty umbrage met;
World-wearied Men withdrew of yore,
(Penance their trust, and prayer their store,)
And in the wilderness were bound

To such apartments as they found,

Or with a new ambition raised,
That God might suitably be praised.

II.

High lodged the Warrior, like a bird of prey, Or where broad waters round him lay:

Within this little, lonely isle

There stood a consecrated Pile;

Where tapers burned, and mass was sung,
For them whose timid Spirits clung

To mortal succor, though the tomb
Had fixed, for ever fixed, their doom!

III.

Upon those servants of another world
When madding Power her bolts had hurled,
Their habitation shook ;- -it fell,

And perished, save one narrow cell;
Whither, at length, a Wretch retired,
Who neither grovelled nor aspired:
He, struggling in the net of pride,
The future scorned, the past defied;
Still tempering, from the unguilty forge
Of vain conceit, an iron scourge!

IV.

Proud Remnant was he of a fearless Race,
Who stood and flourished face to face
With their perennial bills;-but Crime,
Hastening the stern decrees of Time,
Brought low a Power, which from its home
Burst, when
repose grew wearisome;
And, taking impulse from the sword,

And mocking its own plighted word,

Had found, in ravage widely dealt,

Its warfare's bourn, its travel's belt!

V.

All, all were dispossessed, save him whose smile
Shot lightning through this lonely Isle !
No right had he but what he made
To this small spot, his leafy shade;
But the ground lay within that ring
To which he only dared to cling;
Renouncing here, as worse than dead,
The craven few who bowed the head
Beneath the change; who heard a claim
How loud! yet lived in peace with shame.

VI.

From year to year this shaggy Mortal went
(So seemed it) down a strange descent:
'Till they, who saw his outward frame,
Fixed on him an unhallowed name;
Him, free from all malicious taint,
And guiding, like the Patmos Saint,
A pen unwearied, to indite,

In this lone Isle, the dreams of night;
Impassioned dreams, that strove to span
The faded glories of his Clan!

VII.

Suns that through blood their western harbor sought, And stars that in their courses fought;

Towers rent, winds combating with woods,
Lands deluged by unbridled floods;
And beast and bird that from the spell
Of sleep took import terrible;

These types mysterious (if the show
Of battle and the routed foe

Had failed) would furnish an array
Of matter for the dawning day!

VIII.

How disappeared He? ask the newt and toad,

Inheritors of his abode ;

The otter crouching undisturbed,

In her dank cleft;- - but be thou curbed,

O froward Fancy! 'mid a scene

Of aspect winning and serene;
For those offensive creatures shun

The inquisition of the sun!

And in this region flowers delight,

And all is lovely to the sight.

Spring finds not here a melancholy breast,
When she applies her annual test
To dead and living; when her breath
Quickens, as now, the withered heath;
Nor flaunting Summer, when he throws
His soul into the brier-rose;
Or calls the lily from her sleep
Prolonged beneath the bordering deep;