Poems (Jordan)/Through the "Trossachs"

by Rebecca Queen Jordan

THROUGH THE "TROSSACHS"
(SCOTLAND)

Rise early must we for the Tally-ho,
 Whose scarlet-robed driver with crack of whip
Starts his horses betimes down the valley—O,
 Rise early, then, for that wonderful trip!

Where up and down through the fragrance-filled vales,
 Fringed by the waters of laughing blue lochs;
Where beauty is fastened with flower-nails,
 As scaffolding for the heath-covered rocks;

"Where twineth the path" to old Loch Katrine,—
 Whose waters are like to a fairy stream;
Where "Ellen's Isle," in the arms of her matron,
 Seems to sleep and only of Heaven to dream!

Then off and into another old coach,
 Through places where Hist'rys ink never dried;
By the way of "Rob Roy's Country," approach
 Where Scotia's brave for liberty died.

And thus reach the banks of fair Loch Lomond,
 Where waiteth a boat like a dreamland bird;
Step aboard! and see how its white foam-wand
 Reproduces the Past at Memory's word!

Old hills, looking like an emerald sea,
 Whose billows are suddenly stricken still,
Seem to leave us islanded in mystery
 Whose atmosphere sets our spirits athrill!

War's fadeless records all around, we see,
 And our emotion responsively stirs
As we read the autobiography
 Of a nation writ in such characters!

Land, rising and falling so gracefully,
 Thou'rt but Nature's breathing made visible,
As her heart pulsates, rythmatically,
 To the music of meanings unspeakable!

Oh, wonderful ride, by coach and by boat!
 Oh, visions of unimagined delight!
Truly, 'twas God's own finger which wrote
 That poem in Nature-words, none may recite!