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But from our course why turn--to tread A way with shadows overspread; Where what we gladliest would believe Is feared as what may most deceive? Bright Spirit, not with amaranth crowned But heath-bells from thy native ground. Time cannot thin thy flowing hair, Nor take one ray of light from Thee; For in my Fancy thou dost share The gift of immortality; And there shall bloom, with Thee allied, The Votaress by Lugano's side; And that intrepid Nymph, on Uri's steep, descried!

The following passage from Mrs. Wordsworth's Journal describes

The Votaress by Lugano's side.

"Lugano, Sept. 8, Friday.--... The evening was uncommonly fine; the road shady; bells ringing from the neighbouring chapels, that crested many a steep rock; birds too here, fitfully warbling from the groves; waters gushing through some rocky cleft among the thickets; and I, at my own pace and will, enjoyed a quiet and most refreshing walk. At every step up and down the well-made road, meeting something new, a different shaped mountain, or the same trees under different combinations, a tempting path winding to a village in a dell below, or to a nest of cottages gathered round a spire above, a tinkling stream, or a green glade without one; and all the way through a region of stately trees.... Here an elegant-looking peasant Girl was putting on her gay ornaments before she entered the Town, where also was a festival. Her dress was so pretty I could not help noticing it, a scarlet chintz frock with a deep figured border, a wide muslin apron, nearly wrapping her round, also with a deep richly wrought border, and slung by white straps over the shoulders, a gold chain round the neck, earrings, etc.; her hair, something like Dora's, nicely braided. Her companions were assisting to put a very beautiful silk handkerchief upon her neck. One of them, from the interest she seemed to take in the arrangements, might be the mother of the Maiden; the other, a younger Sister perhaps, who lent her aid more slackly, and would, I daresay, rather have been in the wild fields gathering flowers to deck a Mayday garland, or to wreath a coronal for Our Lady's head, on this her day of Festival."

The intrepid Nymph, on Uri's steep, descried!

is thus referred to by Mrs. Wordsworth:--

"Sunday, 20th Aug. Seewen.--... William and I returned later than the rest, having gone further. On reaching a knoll, before we descended into Brunnen, a pretty short-faced, bright-eyed Girl of eighteen or nineteen met us. We enquired the way. She answered; and we bid her good night, and turned from her. Presently she whistled very softly, then sent forth an uncouth sound, more as from the voice of a man than a maiden. It was not a deep sound, but one that might be heard in the Vale and across the Lake, and made the hills about us ring. This was followed by a series of Swiss airs, which she warbled without pause, one after the other, in an impassioned manner, hurrying through as if she wished to reach the utmost limits of her powers, before we were out of hearing; yet I cannot but think these modulated notes meant more than we could understand. They were probably addressed to some one at a distance. There she stood upon the naked rock; and, as a waterfall, the sound grew as we listened, so that I even fancied she was following us, in sight of the villages below and around, and her voice must have been known to those nearer dwellings, in one of which she probably found her home."

The "Sweet Highland Girl!" is thus described in Dorothy Wordsworth's Recollections of a Tour made in Scotland in 1803:--

"Sunday, Aug. 28, 1803.--After long waiting, the girls, who had been on the look-out, informed us that the boat was coming. I went to the waterside, and saw a cluster of people on the opposite shore; but being yet at a distance, they looked more like soldiers surrounding a carriage than a group of men and women; red and green were the distinguishable colours. We hastened to get ourselves ready as soon as we saw the party approach, but had longer to wait than we expected, the lake being wider than it appears to be. As they drew near we could distinguish men in tartan plaids, women in scarlet cloaks, and green umbrellas by the half-dozen. The landing was as pretty a sight as ever I saw. The bay, which had been so quiet two days before, was all in motion with small waves, while the swollen waterfall roared in our ears. The boat came steadily up, being pressed almost to the water's edge by the weight of its cargo; perhaps twenty people landed, one after another. It did not rain much, but the women held up their umbrellas; they were dressed in all the colours of the rainbow, and, with their scarlet cardinals, the tartan plaids of the men, and Scotch bonnets, made a gay appearance. There was a joyous bustle surrounding the boat, which even imparted something of the same character to the waterfall in its tumult, and the restless grey waves; the young men laughed and shouted, the lasses laughed, and the elder folks seemed to be in a bustle to be away. I remember well with what haste the mistress of the house where we were ran up to seek after her child, and seeing us, how anxiously and kindly she inquired how we had fared, if we had had a good fire, had been well waited upon, etc. etc. All this in three minutes--for the boatman had another party to bring from the other side, and hurried us off.

"The hospitality we had met with at the two cottages and Mr. Macfarlane's gave us very favourable impressions on this our first entrance into the Highlands, and at this day the innocent merriment of the girls, with their kindness to us, and the beautiful figure and face of the elder, come to my mind whenever I think of the ferry-house and waterfall of Loch Lomond, and I never think of the two girls but the whole image of that romantic spot is before me, a living image, as it will be to my dying day."

See The Poetical Works, vol. ii. pp. 389, 390, and the Fenwick note.--ED.

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