CAVE OF STAFFA

We saw, but surely, in the motley crowd,

Not one of us has felt the far-famed sight;

How could we feel it? each the other's blight,

Hurried and hurrying, volatile and loud.

O for those motions only that invite

The Ghost of Fingal to his tuneful Cave

By the breeze entered, and wave after wave

Softly embosoming the timid light!

And by one Votary who at will might stand

Gazing, and take into his mind and heart,

With undistracted reverence, the effect

Of those proportions where the almighty hand

That made the worlds, the sovereign Architect,

Has deigned to work as if with human Art!