620 ANNUAL REGISTER, 1815. 
A SCENE IN THE ISLE OF SKYE; 
From the Same. ~ 
WitH Bruce and Ronald bides the tale, 
To favouring winds they gave the sail, 
Till Mull’s dark headland scarce they knew, 
And Ardnamurchan’s hills were blue. 
But then the squalls blew close and hard, 
And, fain to strike the galley’s yard, 
And take them to the oar, 
With these rude seas, in weary plight, 
They strove the livelong day and night, 
Nor till the dawning had a sight 
Of Skye’s romantic shore. 
Where Coolin stoops him to the west, 
They saw upon his shiver’d crest 
The sun’s arising gleam ; 
But such the labour and delay, 
Ere they were moor’d in Scavigh bay, 
(For calmer heaven compell’d to stay) 
He shot a western beam. 
Then Roland said, ‘If true mine eye, 
These are the savage wilds that lie 
North of Strathnardill and Dunskye ; 
No human foot comes here, 
And, since these adyerse breezes blow, 
If my good Liege love hunter’s bow, 
What hinders that on land we go, 
And strike.a mountain deer ? 
_ Allan, my Page, shall with us wend ; 
A bow full deftly can he bend, 
And if we meet an herd, may send 
A shaft shall mend our cheer.” — 
Then each took bow and bolts in hand, 
Their row-boat launched and leapt to_land, 
And left their skiff and train, 
Where a wild stream, with headlong shock, 
Came brawling down its bed of rock, 
To mingle with the main. 
A while their route they silent made, 
As men who stalk for mountain-deer, 
Till the good Bruce to Ronald said, 
“* St. Mary ! what a scene is here! 
