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Our Visit to the West of Scotland,
Page 77. RESPECTING this excursion, I regretted much not having taken notes of the different scenery and various incidents on our pilgrimage. It was, I remember, fully a twelvemonth after I returned before I polluted paper with a description of our travels; the whole Poem, therefore, from the first to the last line, was necessarily written from recollection, Owing to this circumstance, I must humbly beg the reader’s forbearance and indulgence in reference to any descriptive errors, and, indeed, for the whole piece throughout, as it was both very hurriedly and carelessly fabricated. I naturally chose this light racy-pacy sort of measure, as it is, in my opinion, better adapted to the subject than any other; although, at the same time, it is a measure I never liked.
“ Hail to the Cenotaph of Scott !"
Sir Walter Scott's Monument, Princes Street, Edinburgh. The most elegant and beautiful fabric, even in the “ City of Palaces,” or, I daresay, anywhere in Europe.
“And Kemp deplore."
Alluding to its very talented, but unfortunate architect, who, a few years ago, was drowned in the Edinburgh and Glasgow Canal.
"O to survey
A summer's day."
Instead of a summer's day, we had but a few minutes to view that celebrated seat of departed royalty. It is well worth the attention of the antiquary, but by no means suited to the pocket of every one. The avaricious demands made on one's generosity are absolutely disgusting.
“Eternal credit on a Steel I" The name of the Sculptor.
“O Wilson, hallowed be thy name.”
The distinguished Professor Wilson, a man whose fame is in every mouth, both as a philosopher and poet.
“Frowning Crags by Nature piled,
Alluding to Salisbury Crags and Arthur's Seat, which, by their romantic and magnificent appearance, are by all allowed to be the ornament and glory of Modern Athens.
“Next thy Necropolis all hail!”
I well recollect, on this sequestered and engrossing eminence, occupied as the last resting-place by thousands, we spent about an hour and a-half. It was as delightful a day as ever dawned upon the world, and our walk through the city of the dead was a finished treat. The tombs, monuments, and statues of statesmen, warriors, philosophers, priests, and poets, were to me, I remember, a source of exquisite gratification; but I forbear description, feeling myself incompetent for the task.
“With all its sweet transporting views."
The view from Paisley Cemetery, in my opinion, is fully as good as that from the top of Edinburgh Castle. It is so varied and extensive, as seldom to be equalled, at least in Scotland. The Cemetery itself is spread over a pretty high eminence, and was only in process of completion when we had the pleasure of visiting it.
“The friendly, gifted, generous Knox.”
Mr Knox, I have much pleasure in stating, was the first individual in Paisley with whom I became acquainted. I recollect the circumstance happened over a refreshment in an inn, previously to the railway train passing Paisley for Greenock. The gentleman alluded to above is well known in Paisley, both as an eminent artist and pattern designer. He was the kindest man, I solemnly aver, I ever met with in this world. The variety and extent of his generosity and kindness, from modesty, I forbear to reveal; but the memory of which shall ever be identified with all I love and revere in man. Even to have been with him an hour, would almost have tempted one to believe that he belonged not to our fallen species. Heaven reward him, for I owe him much, “far, far beyond what I can ever pay.”
“I've stood above, with pensive thought,
Her vernal pall."
The remains of Highland Mary, as many know, are deposited in the West Churchyard of Greenock.