CO DRUMMOND.
issued Sir Alexander Ramsay, performing memorable exploits.
But the principal charm of this remarkable scenery is its association with the poet Drummond, its early master. He was in the habit of composing his verses in a romantic nook, scooped out of the face of the cliff, hidden by hawthorn, and not very accessible to the foot of the uninitiated. Here he secured that prize, so dear to the children of the muse, freedom from the fear of interruption.
Drummond was a rare combination of the poet and the country gentleman. With him, " high-erected thoughts, seated in a heart of courtesy," to borrow Sir Philip Sydney s beautiful words, did not overpower the practical part of his nature, or the amiable sensibil ities of domestic life. One of the first poems that gave him celebrity was a feeling effusion on the death of the young prince Henry, son of that Scottish James who ascended the English throne after the death of Elizabeth. The music of his sonnets seemed to linger amid his favorite shades, and we could almost fancy we heard him saying,
"I know that all beneath the moon decays, And what by mortals in this world is brought, In Time s great periods shall return to nought ; That fairest states have fatal nights and days. I know that all the Muses heavenly lays, With toil of sprite, which are so dearly bought, As idle sounds, of few, or none are sought; That there is nothing lighter than vain praise. I know frail beauty s like the purple flower, Which finds its birth and death in one brief waning hour."
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