Mighty Mind that moves the whole, Pulsing through the vasty splendour

With thine all-informing soul.

V.

Hear me now, stout-footed comrades;

In the scaling of the Ben

We have done our tasking bravely,
With the thews of Scottish men.

We have gazed and we have wondered,

We have mapped the pictured scene;

But we cannot feed on wonder

Where the air is sharp and keen.

Ope your stores, unlock your wallet,
Pour the strength-inspiring wine;

With the granite slab for table,

On the summit here we dine.

If there be who rashly pledged him

To abstain from usquebeatha,

I do grant a free indulgence,
From his chilly vow to day.
Nectar drink in fields Elysian,
But where biting airs have sway,

He alone with proof is mailèd,

Who is lined with usquebeatha.

Bravely started! crown your glasses

Now with the untainted flood,

Of this glorious old Oporto,

That makes rich the British blood!

Fill a bumper to Breadalbane,

And the men that hunt the deer ;

Let the wise Argyll be honoured,

Mild of heart, of thought severe !
Let his gallant son be toasted,
Lorn, whose lofty love broke down
Walls of ancient harsh partition,
"Twixt the people and the crown;
Let the billow of your pæans
To Dunolly's tower be borne:
Praise the good and gentle lady,

Praise the deedful maid of Lorn!

Praise the land of mist and mountain,

Grassy glen, and purple brae,

Crystal well, and foamy fountain,

Ruddy pine, and birchen spray.

Praise all men who foot it bravely

Up the bright and breezy way,
Where Titanic Nature broadens
Out in beautiful display.

Now 'tis finished: look how darkly
Mount the rolling mists again;

Here to bide would bribe the ague,

We must turn and gain the glen.

Then fare-thee-well, thou tway-coned Cruachan ;

'Mid the busy haunts of men

Thou shalt live a joy for ever

In our hearts, thou queenly Ben!

SONNETS.

I.

ON THE MONUMENT TO NELSON AT TAYNUILT.

STRANGER, if thou hast wondering seen the grey
Huge-planted stones on Sarum's breezy downs,
Where once the Druid reigned with awful sway
Above the might of croziers and of crowns,
See here their antitype-a crude block raised
By sweatful smelters on this wooded strand
To him, whose valour, like a meteor, blazed

O'er the wide ocean. With more curious hand
Sculptor and mason oft did league their skill
To memorize his name; but this rude stone,
Perched in his unhewn ruggedness alone,

Stands, a stout witness of heroic will,

In face of thee, fair Cruachan, and all

Thy subject Bens, and Heaven's blue vaulted hall.

II.

BEN CRUACHAN IN A DARK EVENING.

As a fair mountain when the day hath run

His course, and scanty stars are faintly seen, Swathes him in folds of sombre mantle dun,

Shorn of the purple glories and the green; So a fair lady-saddest of sad sights

Who yields her humour to a peevish whim, Casts out the radiant Phœbus, and for him Brings in a devil, who blows out all the lights. O, if ye knew, all dames with lovely faces,

How much ye mar your beauty with your spleen, You'd covet more than finest silks and laces

The spirit-power that paints the fleshly screen! Manners are masks; but keep the fountain bright, And thy whole body shall be full of light.