WHITE-TAILED SEA-EAGLE. 65 



Why flamos the far summit ? WTiy shoot to the blast 

 • Yon embers, like stars from the firmament cast? 



'Tis the fire-shower of ruin all dreadfully driven 

 From his eyry." 



The farmer, breathing vengeance for the massacres 

 perpetrated upon the young lambs in spring, has as- 

 sembled his shepherds and cottars. They proceed, one 

 carrying a coil of rope, another a bundle of dry heath, 

 and a third a burning peat, toward the further brow of 

 the mountain, where the fissured and shelved precipice 

 hangs over the foamy margin of the Atlantic. Far in 

 the west, in misty and melancholy grandeur, rise the 

 lone isles of St Kilda.' The great ocean is spread 

 around, its impetuous currents sweeping along the 

 rugged shores. Strings of gannets, cormorants, and 

 guillemots, are seen winding round the promontories ; 

 while here and there, over the curling waves, is seen 

 hovering a solitary gull. They have reached the brink 

 of the cliflPs, over which the more timid scarce dare 

 venture to cast a glance, for almost directly under their 

 feet is the unfathomed sea, heaving its heavy billows 

 some hundred feet below the place to which they cling. 

 The eagles are abroad, sailing at a cautious distance 

 in circles, uttering wild and harsh screams, and, as 

 they sweep past, displaying their powerful talons. One 

 of the men fastens the rope to his body, passing it un- 

 der his arms and securing it upon his breast by a firm 

 knot. The rest dig holes with their heels in the turf, 

 and, sitting down in a row, take firm hold of the cord. 

 The adventurer looks over the edge of the cliflp, marks 

 the projecting shelf which overhangs the eagle's nest, 

 and is gradually lowered towards it, bearing in one 



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