Into that forest farre they thence him led,
    Where was their dwelling in a pleasant glade
    With MOUNTAINS round about environed,
    And MIGHTY WOODS which did the valley shade,
    And like a stately theatre it made,
    Spreading itself into a spacious plaine;
    And in the midst a little river plaide
    Emongst the puny stones which seem’d to ’plaine
    With gentle murmure that his course they did restraine.

    Beside the same a dainty place there lay,
    Planted with mirtle trees and laurels green,
    In which the birds sang many a lovely lay
    Of God’s high praise, and of their sweet loves teene,
    As it an earthly paradise had beene;
    In whose enclosed shadow there was pight
    A fair pavillion, scarcely to be seen,
    The which was all within most richly dight,
    That greatest princes living it mote well delight.

Houses or mansions suited to a mountainous region, should be ’not obvious, not obtrusive, but retired;’ and the reasons for this rule, though they have been little adverted to, are evident.  Mountainous countries, more frequently and forcibly than others, remind us of the power of the elements, as manifested in winds, snows, and torrents, and accordingly make the notion of exposure very unpleasing; while shelter and comfort are in proportion necessary and acceptable.  Far-winding vallies difficult of access, and the feelings of simplicity habitually connected with mountain retirements, prompt us to turn from ostentation as a thing there eminently unnatural and out of place.  A mansion, amid such scenes, can never have sufficient dignity or interest to become principal in the landscape, and to render the mountains, lakes, or torrents, by which it may be surrounded, a subordinate part of the view.  It is, I grant, easy to conceive, that an ancient castellated building, hanging over a precipice or raised upon an island, or the peninsula of a lake, like that of Kilchurn Castle, upon Loch Awe, may not want, whether deserted or inhabited, sufficient majesty to preside for a moment in the spectator’s thoughts over the high mountains among which it is embosomed; but its titles are from antiquity—­a power readily submitted to upon occasion as the vicegerent of Nature:  it is respected, as having owed its existence to the necessities of things, as a monument of security in times of disturbance and danger long passed away,—­as a record of the pomp and violence of passion, and a symbol of the wisdom of law; it bears a countenance of authority, which is not impaired by decay.

    Child of loud-throated War, the mountain stream
    Roars in thy hearing; but thy hour of rest
    Is come, and thou art silent in thy age!