 | Legends of the isles and Highland Gatherings |  |
118
THE FALL OF FOYERS,
LOCH NESS, INVERNESS-SHIRE.
I
Wet with the spray of this transcendant river,Upon this crag with mosses cover'd o'er,
I love to stand, and listen to the roar
Of waters bursting down the rocks for ever—
Dash'd into rainbows where the sunbeams quiver.—
The sound of billows as they beat the shore,
Or thunder leaping on the hill-tops hoar,
Till the firm earth beneath its footsteps shiver,
Is not more awful than thy flood, O Foyers!
Roaring 'mid chasms like an escaping sea.—
Alone, and silent, in thy presence vast,
Awed, yet elated, the rapt soul aspires,
Forgetting all its meaner longings past,
To hold high converse, intimate, with thee.
II
Yes! all unmindful of the world without,My spirit with thee, and my eyes in thrall
To thy great beauty, swathing me about,
To me thy voice breathes peace, majestic Fall!
119
Hatred and scorn, and littleness of mind,
And all the mean vexations of mankind,
Fade from my spirit at thy powerful call.
I stand before thee, reverent and dumb,
And hear thy voice discoursing to my soul
Sublime orations tuned to psalmody—
High thoughts of peril met and overcome—
Of Power and Beauty and Eternity,
And the great God who bade thy waters roll!
| Legends of the isles and Highland Gatherings | |