101 SCOTLAND ILLUSTRATED. 



its perch the moan of the wind, as it ruffles the wild ivy, floating from its crest 

 like a green banner and the scream of the water-fowl, are almost the only 

 sounds that now interrupt its profound solitude. Its apartments no longer 

 echo to the tread of armed heel, or to the tramp of sentinels ; it stands like 

 a vast sepulchre mouldering over the grave of its princely founders. But, in the 

 still moonlight, in the broad glare of summer, and in the roar of the winter 

 storm, how different is its aspect how different the associations which it calls 

 forth! In the first, with the waves of the lake stretched .around it like molten 

 silver, reflecting on their bosom, as in a mirror, the shattered outline of its walls 

 and the flash of some stealthy oar, glimmering in the distance, it offers a scene 

 fit to lull the contemplative mind in a delicious reverie a reverie sweetened by 

 the very melancholy which it inspires. Again, the warder's bugle seems to 

 salute us from the wall ; troops of phantom retainers sweep past us in waving 

 tartan and shining steel ; lights glance forth at every lattice ; the clang of the 

 portcullis, lowered to admit the warrior in his plumed helm ; the sound of music, 

 the shouts of rivalry, all pass in review before us, and we can scarcely bring 

 ourselves to avow that it is " but a dream." See it again in the morning ; 

 like a haggard veteran with his mail hacked, his once brawny arms covered with 

 scars, the sunshine, in whose warmth he feels a glow of returning strength, serving 

 only to expose his miserable plight so these lofty ruins appear in all the deso- 

 lation of age, and neglect, and poverty. But, in the winter storm, they assume 

 a stately, and even sublime appearance : the thunder breaks on Ben-cruachan ; 

 the blast sweeps through the defile, shattering the forest and chafing the lake 

 into foam ; the boats are drawn hastily upon the beach, the rowers crouch for 

 shelter among the rocks, and over the wide and desolate landscape, the spirits 

 of the storm execute their terrible commission. Against these abutting ram- 

 parts, the wave, ploughed into deep furrows, now bursts and recoils, and bursts 

 again with redoubled fury. Through the wide unlatticed casements the ruffian 

 tempest howls with deafening roar. But, in the midst of this terrible concert, 

 a mysterious voice, far above the storm, and from the highest turret is heard 

 exclaiming 



" Wave may burst, and wind may howl 

 Lightnings flash, and thunders growl 

 I shall never fall, but when 

 The sea has covered Cruachan-Ben !" 



The gigantic Ben-cruachan, here named, rises in solitary grandeur over the 

 scene, and from the summit of the mountain issue those waters that supply the 



