ii4 PROFESSORSHIP OF GEOLOGY CHAP, iv 



So thick and close, you scarce could see 



Within that villain fog, 

 I vow to good St. Jeremy, 



A chain's length o'er the bog. 



But hark ! upon the bleak Drum-ddu 

 The roaring winds rush fast and free, 

 And the damp mists that hide the day 

 Upon their wings they bear away, 

 And up against the cold blue sky 

 Stands Cefn-y-gamrhiw sharp and high. 

 ' Now to't, my merry men, like fun, 

 And make your hay while shines the sun ; 

 You, Thomas, cut along like wind, 

 And, William, follow up behind : 

 Run like old Scratch, my lads,' quoth I, 

 And off we go right merrily 

 By stock and stone, nor stayed to breathe 

 Till o'er the hill and o'er the heath 

 We reached the vale at set of sun 

 Where wild Cwm Elan's waters run. 



Remote Cwm Elan ! well I ween 

 I never saw a fairer scene. 

 Thy sparkling waters winding stray 

 By meadow green and mountain grey, 



Beneath whose shaggy crest, 

 In many a wild romantic nook, 

 By mossy stone and mountain brook, 



Image of quiet rest, 

 In many a lone and shady spot, 

 Curls the blue smoke from lowly cot. 



Next morning we were boun' to climb 

 Black Craig-y-foel's cliffs sublime; 



So steep this hill, so tight and tough 

 To speel, it cost a whole hour long ; 



And ere we reached the summit rough 

 It cracked my wind and stopped my song. 



Then, O kind-hearted Emily, 

 Most fervently I beg of thee, 

 Remember in thy nightly prayer 

 Thy broken-winded A. C. R. 



For some of his old Glasgow friends he chose a 

 ruder verse, as in the following piece of doggerel : 



