The Isles of Loch Awe and Other Poems of my Youth With Sixteen Illustrations. By Philip Gilbert Hamerton |
 |
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. | V. ARDHONNEL. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
|
|
 | The Isles of Loch Awe and Other Poems of my Youth |  |
57
V. ARDHONNEL.
“These mountains grow oppressive. I will row
Southwards for sylvan beauty and the peace
Of those serene and calmly-sleeping hills,
Whose outlines on the far horizon lie
Like clouds at sunset.” So we took the boat,
I and a Highland boatman, each an oar,
And through the waters, rippling to prolong
The green reflections, swiftly pulled away.
Then first I saw the bulk of Cruachan,
When all the peaks, that guard its hollow gorge,
Came from behind Ben Vorich, one by one.
That gorge was blue and deep, for shadows fell
Into its fearful gulf from snowy clouds
That rose like alps above the highest peak.
But one great muscular shoulder, in the sun,
Shone green and lustrous, wet with recent rain,
Against the dark blue corrie. In the east,
Ben Loy and his great brethren, far away,
Lay like a herd of monstrous elephants
Scattered in every attitude of rest,
And on their bodies stood the wingèd clouds,
Folding their silver wings familiarly.
Then on our oars we rested, and the boat
Insensibly swung round, and thirty peaks
Passed in review before me, and the plain
Of silver waters stretched unto their feet.
Southwards for sylvan beauty and the peace
Of those serene and calmly-sleeping hills,
Whose outlines on the far horizon lie
Like clouds at sunset.” So we took the boat,
I and a Highland boatman, each an oar,
And through the waters, rippling to prolong
The green reflections, swiftly pulled away.
Then first I saw the bulk of Cruachan,
When all the peaks, that guard its hollow gorge,
Came from behind Ben Vorich, one by one.
That gorge was blue and deep, for shadows fell
Into its fearful gulf from snowy clouds
That rose like alps above the highest peak.
But one great muscular shoulder, in the sun,
Shone green and lustrous, wet with recent rain,
Against the dark blue corrie. In the east,
58
Lay like a herd of monstrous elephants
Scattered in every attitude of rest,
And on their bodies stood the wingèd clouds,
Folding their silver wings familiarly.
Then on our oars we rested, and the boat
Insensibly swung round, and thirty peaks
Passed in review before me, and the plain
Of silver waters stretched unto their feet.
Far northwards, where the lake is lost in hills,
The two Black Islands lie with doubled forms,
And if they were not there you would not know
That it was water.
The two Black Islands lie with doubled forms,
And if they were not there you would not know
That it was water.
We have lost them now:
A promontory, wooded to the foot,
Has interposed and hidden them from us.
A promontory, wooded to the foot,
Has interposed and hidden them from us.
I watch slow changes on the distant shores,—
As Science notes the parallax of stars
Through which Earth floats, more swiftly than we think.
As Science notes the parallax of stars
Through which Earth floats, more swiftly than we think.
This is a land of rain, for we have been
Wet through and dried again like water-dogs,
Three times already, and another shower
Comes northward with the wind.
Wet through and dried again like water-dogs,
Three times already, and another shower
Comes northward with the wind.
Behind that cape
Lies Inish Erreth, and the four-square keep
Of Old Argyle.
Lies Inish Erreth, and the four-square keep
59
Ardhonnel looms in sight;
A grey, tall fortress, on a wooded isle,
Not buried but adorned by foliage.
A grey, tall fortress, on a wooded isle,
Not buried but adorned by foliage.
And now I see another reach of lake.
We landed at Ardhonnel when the sun
Shone brightly, and the air was purified,
Washed by the rain. The rock is sharp and steep;
And in the four great walls there is no breach;
And three are built of close-wrought masonry,
Without a single crevice, so compact,
That, save some loopholes in the higher courses,
Those stones would cage an Afrit. In the fourth
I found a door—the only entrance door—
And through tall nettles, over heaps of stones,
Stumbled along. Some gaunt partition-walls,
Left standing, gave an evidence of floors;
And in the great, square, corner buttresses,
Arched doorways, storied one above another,
Gave a precarious entrance to small cells,
Each with a single loophole, and a roof
Of solid stone arched over it for strength.
Shone brightly, and the air was purified,
Washed by the rain. The rock is sharp and steep;
And in the four great walls there is no breach;
And three are built of close-wrought masonry,
Without a single crevice, so compact,
That, save some loopholes in the higher courses,
Those stones would cage an Afrit. In the fourth
I found a door—the only entrance door—
And through tall nettles, over heaps of stones,
Stumbled along. Some gaunt partition-walls,
Left standing, gave an evidence of floors;
And in the great, square, corner buttresses,
Arched doorways, storied one above another,
Gave a precarious entrance to small cells,
Each with a single loophole, and a roof
Of solid stone arched over it for strength.
Standing in one of these strange bedchambers,
My Highlander looked round him and observed
How narrow and confined it was: he said
“He should not like to sleep there”—so I laughed,
Saying, “I used a garret at a push,
When at Dalmally, quite as small as this;
And if there's not a bedroom at the inn,
I would not care to sleep here by myself,
This very night.” Then that stout Highlandman,
In sheer amazement opened both his eyes,
Swearing “he would not sleep there for five pounds.”
My Highlander looked round him and observed
How narrow and confined it was: he said
60
Saying, “I used a garret at a push,
When at Dalmally, quite as small as this;
And if there's not a bedroom at the inn,
I would not care to sleep here by myself,
This very night.” Then that stout Highlandman,
In sheer amazement opened both his eyes,
Swearing “he would not sleep there for five pounds.”
The bedrooms in the inn were occupied:
“Dugald,” said I, “get half a sack of peat,
And, after sunset, bring it in the boat—
I'm going to sketch the castle from the shore—
And you will see me, and will take me in,
And row me to Ardhonnel. I shall sleep
In that small chamber, and shall want a fire—
The room has not been used, I think, of late,
And may want airing.” Dugald laughed aloud,
To prove how smartly he could take a joke:
I was in earnest. When convinced at last,
He grew quite grave; and in this altered mood
I left him, wondering what strange phantasy,
Or terrible distemper of the brain,
Had seized upon me, that I dared to seek
The haunts of owls and bats—and, it might be,
Of beings worse than either owls or bats—
Through the long hours of darkness, and alone.
“Dugald,” said I, “get half a sack of peat,
And, after sunset, bring it in the boat—
I'm going to sketch the castle from the shore—
And you will see me, and will take me in,
And row me to Ardhonnel. I shall sleep
In that small chamber, and shall want a fire—
The room has not been used, I think, of late,
And may want airing.” Dugald laughed aloud,
To prove how smartly he could take a joke:
I was in earnest. When convinced at last,
He grew quite grave; and in this altered mood
I left him, wondering what strange phantasy,
Or terrible distemper of the brain,
Had seized upon me, that I dared to seek
The haunts of owls and bats—and, it might be,
Of beings worse than either owls or bats—
Through the long hours of darkness, and alone.
61
The level light, across the rugged sides
Of Cruachan, cast airy multitudes
Of pale blue shadows, and the hollow gorge
Was one flat void of blue, from which the peaks
Rose to the light. It left them, and a cloud
Nestled in that huge corrie for the night.
Gazing on this, I sat upon the beach
Near Inish Connel, where the castle is;
And when the sun was down I heard a noise
Of rowing, and the dip of distant oars,
Coming towards me. When she hove in sight
I knew the boat, and, rising from her prow,
Saw a blue wreath of light and graceful smoke,
That seemed as much at home upon the lake
As if ascending from a cottage hearth.
Dugald had brought a pan of burning peat,
Which served us for the nucleus of a fire,
And soon my turret cell was full of smoke,
Which, after rambling over every wall,
Seeking a chimney vainly, found its way
Out by the door through which we clambered in.
Of Cruachan, cast airy multitudes
Of pale blue shadows, and the hollow gorge
Was one flat void of blue, from which the peaks
Rose to the light. It left them, and a cloud
Nestled in that huge corrie for the night.
Gazing on this, I sat upon the beach
Near Inish Connel, where the castle is;
And when the sun was down I heard a noise
Of rowing, and the dip of distant oars,
Coming towards me. When she hove in sight
I knew the boat, and, rising from her prow,
Saw a blue wreath of light and graceful smoke,
That seemed as much at home upon the lake
As if ascending from a cottage hearth.
Dugald had brought a pan of burning peat,
Which served us for the nucleus of a fire,
And soon my turret cell was full of smoke,
Which, after rambling over every wall,
Seeking a chimney vainly, found its way
Out by the door through which we clambered in.
I stood alone upon the parapet
When the first stars came out, and then, indeed,
I felt that keen sensation of delight,
Which is the well and fount of poesy,
Moving within me and collecting force.
Such moments have been rare with me of late,
For as I grow to manhood it becomes
More difficult to yield the spirit up
To outward influence, and reflection grows
Habitual; so I cannot be alone—
I cannot banish all the world of men,
Those whom I know, or have known, in the world,
Even if I would—they throng these solitudes.
But in that silent hour I felt once more
The thrilling sense of being quite alone
With Nature in her beauty. Interviews
With earthly sovereigns in their privacy
Honour the subject, but to one who feels
God's presence most in lovely solitudes,
Whether he be a prophet—as of old
Such men were called—or poet writing verse,
Or silent poet writing none at all,
Or honest painter—loneliness to him
May be the very time when he receives
Knowledge in most abundance.
When the first stars came out, and then, indeed,
I felt that keen sensation of delight,
Which is the well and fount of poesy,
Moving within me and collecting force.
Such moments have been rare with me of late,
62
More difficult to yield the spirit up
To outward influence, and reflection grows
Habitual; so I cannot be alone—
I cannot banish all the world of men,
Those whom I know, or have known, in the world,
Even if I would—they throng these solitudes.
But in that silent hour I felt once more
The thrilling sense of being quite alone
With Nature in her beauty. Interviews
With earthly sovereigns in their privacy
Honour the subject, but to one who feels
God's presence most in lovely solitudes,
Whether he be a prophet—as of old
Such men were called—or poet writing verse,
Or silent poet writing none at all,
Or honest painter—loneliness to him
May be the very time when he receives
Knowledge in most abundance.
As I stood
Leaning upon the broken battlement,
And watched the twilight deepen on the hills,
My soul became as calm as that calm lake,
Reflecting all things—for the troubled breast
Confuses all the images of things,
As stormy waves receive a colouring
From clouds and hills, but lose all trace of form.
And, as it calms, the heart grows sensitive
To all surrounding objects, and receives
True and distinct impressions.
Leaning upon the broken battlement,
And watched the twilight deepen on the hills,
My soul became as calm as that calm lake,
Reflecting all things—for the troubled breast
Confuses all the images of things,
As stormy waves receive a colouring
From clouds and hills, but lose all trace of form.
And, as it calms, the heart grows sensitive
63
True and distinct impressions.
Far away
Grey mountains lay like clouds on the horizon,
But, opposite, a range of sombre brown
Rose from the other shore—a perfect void
Of darkness, all enclosed by two rough lines,—
The one, the mountainous outline on the sky,
The other, its reflection. I could see,
As though they hung ten thousand feet below,
The images of clouds; but when I looked
Up to the clouds themselves my eye became
Aware of stars beyond, and turning round
I saw a planet burning in the south,
Eclipsed a moment by a silent wing.
It was a large white owl that came between;
It flew beneath me, passing many times,
And once it settled, for an instant only,
Upon a crumbling fragment of the wall,
And gazed upon me with its two black eyes,
Set in a white round face like the full moon.
Grey mountains lay like clouds on the horizon,
But, opposite, a range of sombre brown
Rose from the other shore—a perfect void
Of darkness, all enclosed by two rough lines,—
The one, the mountainous outline on the sky,
The other, its reflection. I could see,
As though they hung ten thousand feet below,
The images of clouds; but when I looked
Up to the clouds themselves my eye became
Aware of stars beyond, and turning round
I saw a planet burning in the south,
Eclipsed a moment by a silent wing.
It was a large white owl that came between;
It flew beneath me, passing many times,
And once it settled, for an instant only,
Upon a crumbling fragment of the wall,
And gazed upon me with its two black eyes,
Set in a white round face like the full moon.
I sought my turret chamber. Though the walls
Were built of rude unchiselled masonry,
And though there was no chimney for the fire,
Or door or glazing to keep out the cold,
It had an air of comfort, for the peat
Burnt brightly through the atmosphere of smoke;
Besides, there was some furniture,—my trunk,
A cloak spread on the pavement for a bed,
A sack of peat, and a brass candlestick
For ornament, not use, since I attached
The candle to the wall as workmen do.
So that the place looked cheerful when I laid
My weary limbs upon a harder bed
Than tourists often use, and closed my eyes,
Already sore and watery with the smoke.
Were built of rude unchiselled masonry,
And though there was no chimney for the fire,
Or door or glazing to keep out the cold,
It had an air of comfort, for the peat
Burnt brightly through the atmosphere of smoke;
64
A cloak spread on the pavement for a bed,
A sack of peat, and a brass candlestick
For ornament, not use, since I attached
The candle to the wall as workmen do.
So that the place looked cheerful when I laid
My weary limbs upon a harder bed
Than tourists often use, and closed my eyes,
Already sore and watery with the smoke.
I know that this is dull and commonplace,
Dear reader, but the spirits of Loch Awe
That night, perhaps, were otherwise engaged;
And I know naught of rapping; and, besides,
There was no table—not a single board—
So I was doomed to spend the night alone.
Though poets conjure phantoms from the deeps
Of their creative fancy, the sound head
Is master of its own imaginings;
And if the ghosts I summon from their graves
Grew troublesome, or caused unpleasant thoughts,
Reason, that stern exorcist, would compel
Their instant flight. So, to amuse myself,
I pictured ghosts of many feudal chiefs
Entering the little chamber one by one,
Clad as in life, with targe, and dirk, and sword;
Pale faces frowning, through the haze of smoke,
Upon the rash intruder, and contempt
On their white bloodless lips for one who sought
The comforts they despised, whose beds had been
The heather on the rock, and one of whom
Had been contemned, and thought effeminate,
Because he shaped a pillow of the snow
Of which his bed was made.
Dear reader, but the spirits of Loch Awe
That night, perhaps, were otherwise engaged;
And I know naught of rapping; and, besides,
There was no table—not a single board—
So I was doomed to spend the night alone.
Though poets conjure phantoms from the deeps
Of their creative fancy, the sound head
Is master of its own imaginings;
And if the ghosts I summon from their graves
Grew troublesome, or caused unpleasant thoughts,
Reason, that stern exorcist, would compel
Their instant flight. So, to amuse myself,
I pictured ghosts of many feudal chiefs
Entering the little chamber one by one,
Clad as in life, with targe, and dirk, and sword;
Pale faces frowning, through the haze of smoke,
Upon the rash intruder, and contempt
65
The comforts they despised, whose beds had been
The heather on the rock, and one of whom
Had been contemned, and thought effeminate,
Because he shaped a pillow of the snow
Of which his bed was made.
I fell asleep,
And in a dreamless and unbroken rest
These fancies died away. When I awoke
Some low, red embers scattered on the floor,
And a short candle with a knob of snuff,
Shed a dim light upon the rough old walls;
So I collected all the hottest peats
Into a heap, and their united warmth,
When nursed and coaxed, became a second fire.
Then I descended very cautiously
Into the castle hall, and walking past
Black archways towards the fireplace of the hall,
A wide, low arch, I thought how all was changed
Since round that yawning fireplace, and within
The little loopholed chamber that it made,
The jovial clansmen revelled.
And in a dreamless and unbroken rest
These fancies died away. When I awoke
Some low, red embers scattered on the floor,
And a short candle with a knob of snuff,
Shed a dim light upon the rough old walls;
So I collected all the hottest peats
Into a heap, and their united warmth,
When nursed and coaxed, became a second fire.
Then I descended very cautiously
Into the castle hall, and walking past
Black archways towards the fireplace of the hall,
A wide, low arch, I thought how all was changed
Since round that yawning fireplace, and within
The little loopholed chamber that it made,
The jovial clansmen revelled.
Once again
I stood upon the ivied parapet.
The night was very beautiful and calm;
There was no sound upon the little isle,
Except the snoring of my friend the owl,
And the faint ripple of the drowsy water
Against the rocky beach, far down below.
Then came a noise of distant waterfalls
From both the shores, and it was strange to hear
Two housedogs bay across the breadth of lake,
Answering each other. I have never seen
More lovely starlight. Three great planets shone
North, south, and west, and on the deep, dark waters,
Their light fell softly toward the castled isle.
The water seemed quite luminous itself
Beneath those planets, and the ripple gave
Quick diamond flashes of a transient light,
Most like the phosphorescence of the sea.
I stood upon the ivied parapet.
The night was very beautiful and calm;
There was no sound upon the little isle,
Except the snoring of my friend the owl,
And the faint ripple of the drowsy water
66
Then came a noise of distant waterfalls
From both the shores, and it was strange to hear
Two housedogs bay across the breadth of lake,
Answering each other. I have never seen
More lovely starlight. Three great planets shone
North, south, and west, and on the deep, dark waters,
Their light fell softly toward the castled isle.
The water seemed quite luminous itself
Beneath those planets, and the ripple gave
Quick diamond flashes of a transient light,
Most like the phosphorescence of the sea.
Again I dozed, and near me snored the owl
In the thick ivy, with a human tone;
A sonorous snore it was, and very loud.
There was a flock of rooks upon the isle,
But, after quarrelling till they fell asleep,
They had been still as mice. A noisy bat
Came in to see me often, fluttering round
The little chamber on its skinny wings,
Then darting through the loophole or the door
Into the night. A giant spider ran
Across me—and as little did he dream
Of what he trod on, as we human insects
Think of the star we trample underfoot.
These were my only visitors. Perhaps
Some would have shrunk from their society,
But I have pleasure in all living things;
Which in their place are serving the Supreme;
And they discharge their functions in this world
More perfectly than I. The happiness
Of living in unconscious harmony
With Nature is so little known to man,
That one may almost envy bats and owls
Their simpler duties, and the perfect ease
With which they serve the universal Law.
We wretches, with a thousand hostile creeds,
Perplexed and baffled in the endless search,
What are we more than they? Have we attained
More virtue than those lilies of the field,
Which, clothed in beauty, know not that they live?
Have we more faith than spiders, bats, and owls,
Who live in trust?
In the thick ivy, with a human tone;
A sonorous snore it was, and very loud.
There was a flock of rooks upon the isle,
But, after quarrelling till they fell asleep,
They had been still as mice. A noisy bat
Came in to see me often, fluttering round
The little chamber on its skinny wings,
Then darting through the loophole or the door
Into the night. A giant spider ran
Across me—and as little did he dream
Of what he trod on, as we human insects
Think of the star we trample underfoot.
These were my only visitors. Perhaps
Some would have shrunk from their society,
67
Which in their place are serving the Supreme;
And they discharge their functions in this world
More perfectly than I. The happiness
Of living in unconscious harmony
With Nature is so little known to man,
That one may almost envy bats and owls
Their simpler duties, and the perfect ease
With which they serve the universal Law.
We wretches, with a thousand hostile creeds,
Perplexed and baffled in the endless search,
What are we more than they? Have we attained
More virtue than those lilies of the field,
Which, clothed in beauty, know not that they live?
Have we more faith than spiders, bats, and owls,
Who live in trust?
These thoughts passed through my mind
As I lay thinking in that ruined tower.
But after them the answer also came.
As I lay thinking in that ruined tower.
But after them the answer also came.
One conscious effort to obey the right
Is worth a thousand years of sinless life—
Sinless because it knows not how to sin.
These creatures have not misery and vice,
Nor have they virtue, and what virtue brings.
A corpse obeys the law as well as they:
It decomposes, and its gases fly
Where Nature wills. In such obedience
There is no virtue, neither any praise.
A child who bears affliction patiently
Does more than ever the eternal hills
Have done in all the ages of the past—
Their million years of death! So let us learn
The glory, for we know the pain of choice;
And let us make our lives, though sorrowful
And very bitter, like heroic lives!
In effort lies our glory and our pain;
But the time comes when that will also cease,
And we shall rest, yet in our rest obey
Eternal law, as the heart beats in sleep.
Is worth a thousand years of sinless life—
Sinless because it knows not how to sin.
These creatures have not misery and vice,
Nor have they virtue, and what virtue brings.
A corpse obeys the law as well as they:
It decomposes, and its gases fly
Where Nature wills. In such obedience
68
A child who bears affliction patiently
Does more than ever the eternal hills
Have done in all the ages of the past—
Their million years of death! So let us learn
The glory, for we know the pain of choice;
And let us make our lives, though sorrowful
And very bitter, like heroic lives!
In effort lies our glory and our pain;
But the time comes when that will also cease,
And we shall rest, yet in our rest obey
Eternal law, as the heart beats in sleep.
I also envied thoughtlessly the power
Of bearing rude assaults of wind and weather
Without protection, which these creatures have;
But soon remembered that a creature's rank
Is chiefly marked by the necessity
Of many outward agents to its life,
And therefore to itself the power is given
To modify and change surrounding things;
And when this power has reached a certain point
In man himself, we call him civilised.
Of bearing rude assaults of wind and weather
Without protection, which these creatures have;
But soon remembered that a creature's rank
Is chiefly marked by the necessity
Of many outward agents to its life,
And therefore to itself the power is given
To modify and change surrounding things;
And when this power has reached a certain point
In man himself, we call him civilised.
Here is another picture from the walls.
The moon had risen, and her quiet light
Fell softly on the castle and the hills;
Not with the sharp, strong shadows, which she throws
On the cold earth in winter, when the air
Is clear and sharp with frost, but all around
A sort of paler sunlight, warm and dim,
Made grey the solemn shadows of the keep,
A feeble yet most penetrative light!
The moon had risen, and her quiet light
Fell softly on the castle and the hills;
Not with the sharp, strong shadows, which she throws
69
Is clear and sharp with frost, but all around
A sort of paler sunlight, warm and dim,
Made grey the solemn shadows of the keep,
A feeble yet most penetrative light!
Another hour of interrupted sleep.
When I awoke 'twas in a dreary place.
My candle having melted from the wall
Was flickering in the dust. The fire was black,
And straggling rays of very cheerless light
Entered the cell—the first cold rays of dawn.
When I awoke 'twas in a dreary place.
My candle having melted from the wall
Was flickering in the dust. The fire was black,
And straggling rays of very cheerless light
Entered the cell—the first cold rays of dawn.
Yes, it was daylight. On the grassy walls
Once more I stood, and watched the infinite change.
The lake was now all rippled, white, and cold,
With streaks of darkest water, smooth as glass;
But that cold ripple flushed with rose colour
When in the east, long fields of airy cloud
Coloured; and in the regions of the north,
The undefined pale vapours of the sky
Began to feel the sun. Then on sharp peaks
Of Alpine cloud above Ben Cruachan
Touches of light fell westward, and thick clouds,
Opaque and leaden-hued, that heavily
Hung in the yellow east, received quick strokes
Of gold and crimson on their under edge,
Defining forms indefinite before.
Then I descended to the water's edge,
And saw the boat which brought the prisoner
His order of release. We left the isle;
And in a clear, deep bay, as cold as ice,
I broke the still reflections with a plunge,
And washed away the odour of the peat.
Once more I stood, and watched the infinite change.
The lake was now all rippled, white, and cold,
With streaks of darkest water, smooth as glass;
But that cold ripple flushed with rose colour
When in the east, long fields of airy cloud
Coloured; and in the regions of the north,
The undefined pale vapours of the sky
Began to feel the sun. Then on sharp peaks
Of Alpine cloud above Ben Cruachan
Touches of light fell westward, and thick clouds,
Opaque and leaden-hued, that heavily
Hung in the yellow east, received quick strokes
Of gold and crimson on their under edge,
Defining forms indefinite before.
70
And saw the boat which brought the prisoner
His order of release. We left the isle;
And in a clear, deep bay, as cold as ice,
I broke the still reflections with a plunge,
And washed away the odour of the peat.
The greater part of this chapter was written in the castle. The descriptions, as usual, are direct from nature; and whatever there is of philosophic digression I have retained as it was originally written, because it would be out of character to suppose that any imaginative person could be left alone in an old castle with his own thoughts and not ramble a little.
| The Isles of Loch Awe and Other Poems of my Youth | |