Mary Baldwin College - Bluestocking Yearbook (Staunton, VA)

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THK AUGUSTA SEMINARY ANNUAL. 19 grimage. Who docs not desire to stand, as did the Knight of Snowdoun and feast his eyes on the loveliness below, Where j, ' l cam ing with the scltinj sun, One burnished sheet of livinj( } uld, Lock Katrine lay Ixjueath him rolled, In all her lenj h far winding lay With promontory, creek, and bay And islands that, empurpled l)right Floated amid the livelier light, And mountains, that like giants stand To sentinel enchanted land. Or who might not even more love to linger at break of day on the edge of this most picturesque of lakes, and see and feel what Scott has expressed with tender and easy grace : The summer dawns reflected hue, To purple changed Lock Katrine blue. Mildly and soft the western breeze Just kissed the lake, just stirred the trees. And the pleased lake, like maiden coy. Trembled but dimpled not for joy ; The mountain shadows on her breast Were neither broken nor at rest In bright uncertainty they lie. Like future joys to Fancy ' s eye, — The gray mist left the mountain side. The torrent show ' d its glistening pride, — Invisible in flecked sky The lark sent down her revelry. We pause enraptured by the Trossach ' s deepest dell, wrap- ped in the glory of the setting sun, The western waves of ebbing day Rolled o ' er the glen their level way — Each purple peak, each flinty spire Was bathed in flood of living fire, — And creeping shrubs of thousand dyes, Waved in the west- winds summer sighs. ' ' And now ' ' The shades of eve come slowly down , The woods are wrapt in deeper brown. The owl awakens from her dell. The fox is heard upon the fell, and as darkness shrouds the fading scene, we turn silently away, awed by the sight and sounds of the magnificently pictured night.

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18 the; AUGUSTA SEMINARY ANNUAL. Natural Scenery in Scott ' s Poetry. A AMONG AI.I. OUR PICTURES of Scott ' s youth- ful life, there is none more delightful to contem- plate than that of the boy as he lay on the grass-cush- ioned crags of Sandy-Knowe, and, lifting his young eyes with all the light of genius in them, looked abroad over that wonderful landscape, and saw below the windings of the silver Tweed, the gray ruins of Dry burgh, over which the soft light lingered, and nestled among the dark yew trees, and in front the purple summits of Eildon ' s triple height. It is a scene in which all influences of soul and sense mingle, for here is the charm of natural beauty and gran- deur combined with the delicious dreams of a youthful fancy , a heart and brain beating time with the great pulse of Na- ture. Even one of less genius than Scott, thus nutured, might have had Poetic impulse given. By the green hill and clear blue heaven. And these fair first recollections of his dreamy child- hood were, through his life, the most fondly loved of all, and many a time would rise Those crags, that mountain tower Which charmed his fancy ' s wakening hour, And feelings roused in life ' s first day, Glow in the line, and prompt the lay. It is pleasant to think that it was in this loved spot his spirit took its flight, and that the gentle ripple of the Tweed over the pebbles, was almost the last earthly sound that fell upon his dying ear. Keen appreciation of light, colour, and beauty in Na- ture was with Scott always, and many of his descriptions are examples of pure landscape painting. He sees every- thing wih a painter ' s eye, and under his master hand pic- tures, full of grace and of glowing brightness, flash into light and life — pictures so vivid, so wondrous, The whole might seem The scenery of a fairy dream. Invested by the magic of his touch, the exquisite scenery of Lock Katrine has become the Mecca of every traveler ' s pil-

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20 THE AUGUSTA SEMINARY ANNUAL. Scott had the power in an unusual degree of producing broad and general effects with almost one sweep of his magic pencil. What more perfect description of lovely Loch Achray could we have than the one line : So lone a lake, so sweet a strand ! for even now, it is said, though haunted by tourists, if once you leave their beat you may get into complete quiet and solitude, sweet, not dreary. Again, in Marmion, with spell -bound steps we fol- low until we stand, with the holy hush of Nature creep- ing o ' er us, By lone St. Mary ' s silent lake. Nor pen nor sedge Pollute the pure lakes crystal edge. Abrupt and sheer, the mountains sink At once upon the level brink, And just a trace of silver sand Marks where the water meets the land, Nor thicket, dell nor copse you spy. Where living thing concealed might lie, There ' s nothing left to fancy ' s guess, You see that all is loneliness. ' ' The poem opens with an exquisite description of the set of day on Norham ' s castled steep. ' ' We see the battled towers and flanking walls shining in yellow lustre, while from the warriors ' armor flashes back again The western blaze In lines of dazzling light. But we have left the crimson sunset glow, and now was ever scene so sad and fair? We gaze on Melrose ' s ruins gray, over which the pale moonlight streams in un- certain showers, lighting up the ruined pile with its silver edges. Ah ! long would we linger here, listening to the beating of the distant Tweed and wrapped in the solemn mystery of night, but time rolls his ceaseless course, and though, in this never ending art-gallerj magical pictures never cease to charm our eyes and hearts, must we turn away our steps, and with the night fade into silence. Mamie Richmond.