"They are mine!-my weal shall be
theirs-my woe my own." As he spoke he hurried from the weeping group,
and emerging amid the cliffs, hid himself from their tears and their
blessing.
He threw himself on a shelving rock, whose fern-covered bosom projected
over the winding waters of Loch Lubnaig, and having stilled his own
anguished recollections, he turned his full eyes on the lake beneath;
and while he contemplated its serene surface, he sighed, and thought
how tranquil was nature, till the rebellious passions of man, wearying
of innocent joys, disturbed all by restlessness and invasion on the
peace and happiness of others.
The mists of evening hung on the gigantic tops of Ben Ledi and Ben
Vorlich; then sailing forward, by degrees obscured the whole of the
mountains, leaving nothing for the eye to dwell on but the long silent
expanse of the waters below.
"So," said he, "did I once believe myself forever shut in from the
world, by an obscurity that promised me happiness as well as seclusion!
But the hours of Ellerslie are gone! No tender wife will now twine
her faithful arms around my neck. Alas, the angel that sunk my
country's wrongs to a dreamy forgetfulness in her arms, she was to be
immolated that I might awake! My wife, my unborn babe, they must both
bleed for Scotland!-and the sacrifice shall not be yielded in vain.
Pages:
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283