SECOND EDITION. 31 



' Well may fond memory love to trace 

 The semblance of that lonely place, 

 Much may she joy to picture fair 

 Each cliff that frowns in darkness there ; 

 For when alone in youth I stray'd 

 To haunted cave or forest glade, 

 Each rock, each lonely dell, I knew, 

 Where flow'rets bloom'd or berries grew ; 

 Knew where, to shelf of whiten'd rock, 

 At eve the sable cormorants flock ; 

 Could point the little arm to where 

 Deep the wild fox had dug his lair ; 

 Had mark'd with curious eye the cell 

 Where the rock-pigeon loved to dwell ; 

 Had watch'd the seal with silent ken, 

 And, venturous, storm'd the badger's den.' 



In the following lines there seems to be an echo from 

 Byron's tales. 



' Oft had our poet wish'd to brave 

 The giddy height and foaming wave, 

 That wildly dash'd and darkly frown'd 

 The Doocot's yawning caves around. 

 For many a tale of wondrous kind 

 With wild impatience fired his mind ; 

 Tales of dark caves where never ray 

 Of summer's sun was seen to play; 

 Tales of a spring whose ceaseless wave 

 Nor gurgling sound nor murmur gave, 

 But like that queen who, in her pride, 

 Latona's ruthless twins defied, 

 To meltless marble, as it flows 

 Through stiffening moss and lichens, grows. 

 Before he deem these marvels true 

 The caves must meet his curious view.' 

 % 



Considerable progress here from the ' water oozing 

 fast ' and ' nothing but white stones ' of the first edition. 

 In that performance the arrival of the boat had been 

 emphatically chronicled, ' the author ' dwelling with 

 manifest satisfaction on the event. It would not, how- 

 ever, have been poetical enough for 'the Muses' 

 youngest child' to be taken off at midnight by mere 



