* * * * *

LINES WRITTEN ON VISITING THE ISLAND OF IONA.

(For the Mirror.)

  Wild, sad, and solitary, amid the wave,
  Iona mourns her pious founder’s grave;
  Still o’er his tomb these fretted columns pay
  Their crumbling dust, a tribute to his clay. 
  Frail wreck of time! so crippled with the blast,
  Recorder Of the present and the past,
  Enough can tell.  These Gothic arches show
  The height of glory and of human woe;
  Alas, ’tis all which occupies the brain,
  The lust of power dyes the despot’s chain,
  Here Learning cast her magic beam around
  Light of fair Science, whence our freedom’s found,
  Resistless spells, attractive power, for long
  Brought princes here, and Minstrel’s sung their song,
  To pay a tribute to the holy sage
  Their history told, it formed his faithful page;
  Historic power Supreme! within this wall
  Gave Bruce the crown, or Baliol the fall,
  From proud Edward’s grasp in a bark they bore
  All Scotland’s archives to a distant shore,
  Manned by a hardy and a faithful crew,
  For Gallia’s coast the well skilled pilot drew,
  But ere the orphan’s eyes had lost the sail
  Portending danger, screeching sea gulls wail,
  In wild confusion left the angry wave
  For distant Staffa’s high basaltic cave,
  Big heaved the flood, and loud the billows roar
  In blackening heaps screened Morvem’s distant shore;
  High blew the winds, and quick the lightning’s flash
  And gilded hailstones fell with many a crash. 
  The story ran from sire to sire. 
  That Heaven itself was filled with living fire;
  Of them no more is told, no more is known,
  That widows’ tears had scooped this hollow stone. 
  Here all is silent, save the murmuring sound
  Of crystal spray which bathes this sacred ground,
  In tuneful sorrow, sheds her friendly tear
  To learned virtues, long forgotten here. 
  When conscience was the punisher of crime,
  And blood stained ruffians of Ossian’s line
  Had taught redemption at the tear-worn shrine,
  And barbarous tribes in thousands flocked around
  To ask forgiveness on this holy ground.

R.

* * * * *

LIGHT AND DARK GENII.

(For the Mirror.)

LIGHT.

  In fields of light, I ride, I ride,
    Upon the gust-winds back,
  And, when I mark the eventide,
    Or gathering of the rack;
  Like spirit of a pleasant dream,
  I mount upon a sunset beam,
  And hie me in a flashing stride,
  The dark to dash aside,

Dark.