What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Ambrisbeg ancient appears appointed Ardbeg Ardmaleish Arran Ascog Bannatyne Barone Barone hill beautiful betwixt Bishop Blaan Blane Bogany Brandan breadth Burgh called Castle Cattan chapel church climate Clyde coast considerable Cotyledon Umbilicus Crown Cumbraes Duchess of Argyle Duke of Rothesay Earl of Bute east eminent erected excursion family of Bute farm favour feet ferry Frith geologist Glasgow Glass ground High Steward Highlands hill inhabitants inter Island of Bute Isle of Bute Isles of Cumbrae John Kerrycroy Kilcattan Kingarth Kirk Session Kyles Kyles of Bute Laird land Loch Ascog Loch Straven Loch-Fad Lord High Steward lovely Marquess mile Montague Stanley Mount-Stuart o'er Parish Parliament pass remains residence road rocks Rothesay ruins Scalpsie Bay Scots seen shore side Steward of Scotland stones Stout Stewart tower town trap visited vitrified wall Wester Kames wood
Page 44 - Ever charming, ever new, When will the landscape tire the view; The fountain's fall, the river's flow, The woody valleys, warm and low ; The windy summit, wild and high, Roughly rushing on the sky! The pleasant seat, the ruined tower, The naked rock, the shady bower ; The town and village, dome and farm, Each give each a double charm, As pearls upon an ^Ethiop's arm.
Page 171 - Who ne'er hath trod thy heathery heights before, And ne'er may see thee more After yon autumn sun hath westering gone ; Though oft, in pensive mood, when far away, 'Mid city multitudes, his thoughts will stray To Ascog's lake, blue-sleeping in the morn, And to the happy homesteads that adorn Thy Rothesay's lovely bay.
Page 171 - And health, though elsewhere lost, be found in thee ! May thy bland zephyrs to the pallid cheek Of sickness ever roseate hues restore, And they who shun the rabble and the roar Of the wild world, on thy delightful shore Obtain that soft seclusion which they seek ! Be this a stranger's farewell, green...
Page 36 - Haddon, within thy silent halls, Deserted courts, and turrets high, How mournfully on memory falls Past scenes of antique pageantry. A holy spell pervades thy gloom, A silent charm breathes all around, And the dread stillness of the tomb Reigns o'er thy hallow'd haunted ground. King of the Peak! thy hearth is lone, No sword-girt vassals gather there, No minstrel's harp pours forth its tone In praise of Maud or Margaret fair. Where are the high and stately dames Of princely Vernon's...
Page 133 - Club. and my heirs : I give, grant, and by this my deed, convey to the said monastery at Paisley, and the monks serving God therein, the church of Kingaif (Kingarth) in the island of Bute, with all the chapels and the whole parish of that island, together with the whole of those lands of which the boundaries, said to have been fixed by St Blane, are still apparent from sea to sea.
Page 113 - Graeme in Falkirk's bloody, fight, — Bonkill's stout Stewart, whose heroic tale Oft circles yet the peasant's evening fire, And how he scorned to fly, and how he bled, — He, whose effigies in St. Mary's choir, With planted heel upon the lion's head, Now rests in marble mail.
Page 103 - Ariel ! thou shalt find I will preserve thee ever in my mind. Henceforth this isle to the afflicted be A place of refuge, as it was to me : The promises of blooming spring live here, And all the blessings of the ripening year.
Page 142 - A Baron, in the large sense of that word, is one who holds his lands immediately of the crown; and such had, by our ancient constitution, right to a seat in Parliament, however small his freehold might have been. When titles of honour and dignity came to be conferred by the Sovereign, the Barons that were distinguished by these, had the appellation of Majores,".
Page 70 - Whose songs are but of love; But different was the aspect of that hour Which brought, of eld, the Norsemen o'er the deep, To wrest yon castle's walls from Scotland's power, And leave her brave to bleed, her fair to weep; When Husbac fierce, and Olave, Mona's king, Confederate chiefs, with shout and triumphing, Bade o'er its towers the Scaldic raven fly, And mock each storm-tost sea-king toiling by ! — Far different were the days When flew the fiery cross, with summoning blaze, O'er Blane's hill,...
Page 17 - And how he scorn'd to fly, and how he bled — He, whose effigies in St Mary's choir, With planted heel upon the lion's head, Now rests in marble mail. Yet still remains the small dark narrow room, Where the third Robert, yielding to the gloom Of his despair, heart-broken, laid him down, Refusing food, to die; and to the wall Turn'd his determined face, unheeding all, And to his captive boy-prince left his crown.21 Alas!