THE stag at eve had drunk his fill, But, when the sun his beacon red Had kindled on Benvoirlich's head, The deep-mouth'd blood-hound's heavy bay And faint, from farther distance borne, Were heard the clanging hoof and horn. II. As Chief, who hears his warder call, The dew-drops from his flanks he shook; A moment gazed adown the dale, A moment listen'd to the cry, That thicken'd as the chase drew nigh; 1 MS. The bloodhound's notes of heavy bass Resounded hoarsely up the pass. 2 Ua-var, as the name is pronounced, or more properly Uaighmor, is a mountain to the north-east of the village of Callander in Menteith, deriving its name, which signifies the great den, or cavern, from a sort of retreat among the rocks on the south side, said, by tradition, to have been the abode III. Yell'd on the view the opening pack; On the lone wood and mighty hill. of a giant. In latter times, it was the refuge of robbers and banditti, who have been only extirpated within these forty or fifty years. Strictly speaking, this stronghold is not a cave, as the name would imply, but a sort of small enclosure, or recess, surrounded with large rocks, and open above head. It may have been originally designed as a toil for deer, who might get in from the outside, but would find it difficult to return. This opinion prevails among the old sportsmen and deer-stalkers in the neighbourhood. 1 Benvoirlich, a mountain comprehended in the cluster of the Grampians, at the head of the valley of the Garry, a river which springs from its base. It rises to an elevation of 3330 feet above the level of the sea. IV. Less loud the sounds of silvan war For ere that steep ascent was won, Had the bold burst their metal tried. V. The noble stag was pausing now, By far Lochard1 or Aberfoyle. 1 About a mile to the westward of the inn of Aberfoyle, Lochard opens to the view. A few hundred yards to the east of it, the Avendow, which had just issued from the lake, tumbles its waters over a rugged precipice of more than thirty feet in height, forming, in the rainy season, several very magnificent cataracts. The first opening of the lower lake, from the east, is uncommonly picturesque. Directing the eye nearly westward, Benlomond raises its But nearer was the copsewood grey, And mingled with the pine-trees blue Fresh vigour with the hope return'd,1 With flying foot the heath he spurn'd, pyramidal mass in the background. In nearer prospect, you have gentle eminences, covered with oak and birch to the very summit; the bare rock sometimes peeping through amongst the clumps. Immediately under the eye, the lower lake, stretching out from narrow beginnings, to a breadth of about half a mile, is seen in full prospect. On the right, the banks are skirted with extensive oak woods, which cover the mountain more than half way up. Advancing to the westward, the view of the lake is lost for about a mile. The upper lake, which is by far the most extensive, is separated from the lower by a stream of about 200 yards in length. The most advantageous view of the upper lake presents itself from a rising ground near its lower extremity, where a footpath strikes off to the south, in the wood that overhangs this connecting stream. Looking westward, Benlomond is seen in the background, rising, at the distance of six miles, in the form of a regular cone, its sides presenting a gentle slope to the N.W. and S. E. On the right is the lofty mountain of Benoghrie, running west, towards the deep vale in which Lochcon lies concealed from the eye. In the foreground, Lochard stretches out to the west in fairest prospect; its length three miles, and its breadth a mile and a half. On the right, it is skirted with woods; the northern and western extremity of the lake is diversified with meadows, and corn-fields, and farm-houses. On the left, few marks of cultivation are to be seen. Farther on, the traveller passes along the verge of the lake under a ledge of rock, from thirty to fifty feet high; and, standing immediately under this rock, towards its western extremity, he has a double echo, of uncommon distinctness. Upon pronouncing, with a firm voice, a line of ten syllables, it is returned, first from the opposite side of the lake; and when that is finished, it is repeated with equal distinctness from the wood on the east. The day must be perfectly calm, and the lake as smooth as glass, for otherwise no human voice can be returned from a distance of at least a quarter of a mile.-Graham's Sketches of Perthshire, 2d edit. p. 182, &c. 1 MS.-Fresh vigour with the thought return'd, |