e other sonnets that follow, were coloured by the
remembrance of my recent visit to Sir Walter Scott, and the melancholy
errand on which he was going.

368. *_Composed in the Glen of Lock Etive_. [VIII.]

'That make the patriot spirit.'

It was mortifying to have frequent occasions to observe the bitter
hatred of the lower orders of the Highlanders to their superiors: love
of country seemed to have passed into its opposite. Emigration was the
only relief looked to with hope.

369. _Eagles: composed at Dunollie Castle in the Bay of Oban_. [IX.]

The last I saw was on the wing, off the promontory of Fairhead, county
of Antrim. I mention this, because, though my tour in Ireland, with Mr.
Marshall and his son, was made many years ago, this allusion to the
eagle is the only image supplied by it to the poetry I have since
written. We travelled through the country in October; and to the
shortness of the days, and the speed with which we travelled (in a
carriage-and-four), may be ascribed this want of notices, in my verse,
of a country so interesting. The deficiency I am somewhat ashamed of,
and it is the more remarkable, as contrasted with my Scotch and
continental tours, of which are to be found in these volumes so many
memorials.

370. *_In the Sound of Mull_. [X.]

Touring late in the season in Scotland is an uncertain speculation. We
were detained a week by rain at Bunaw, on Loch Etive, in a vain hope
that the weather would clear up, and allow me to show my daughter the
beauties of Glencoe. Two days we were at the Isle of Mull, on a visit to
Major Campbell; but it rained incessantly, and we were obliged to give
up our intention of going to Staffa. The rain pursued us to Tyndrum,
where the next sonnet was composed in a storm.

371. '_Shepherds of Etive Glen_.' [X.]

In Gaelic--Buachaill Eite.

372. _Highland Broach_. [XV.]

On ascending a hill that leads from Loch Awe towards Inverary, I fell
into conversation with a woman of the humbler class, who wore one of
these Highland broaches. I talked with her about it, and upon parting
with her, when I said, with a kindness I truly felt, 'May the broach
continue in your family for many generations to come, as you have
already possessed it,' she thanked me most becomingly, and seemed not a
little moved. The exact resemblance which the old broach (still in use,
though rarely met with among the Highlanders) bears to the Roman Fibula
must strike every one,