Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
--Gray
"The summer blooms, let us a while exchange
Lerwegian scenes for rural, calm delights:
Come, let us skim the undulating wave,
Inhale the balmy breeze from yonder mead,
Which, gilded by the cheering sunny ray,
Across the silvery bay allures the eye."
Hope's vivid promise well nigh realiz'd,
We Hangcliff's* steep and lofty summit gain,
Which o'er the deep in awful form projects;
And, in one wide and heart-dilating view,
Gives Thulè's utmost boundaries to the eye.
Eastward, beyond where keenest sight can pierce,
The German Ocean rolls his frequent wave
To Berga's coast remote. Far in the north,
Rise Vaalifield's high ridge and Saxaford;+
In yonder space, that points to Faro's Isles
And Iceland's lasting snows, towers Rona's Hill,
Majestic 'midst his tributary mountains.
Turning thence the obedient eye to where
The setting sun gleams on Orcadian shores,
See cloud-girt Foula fam'd in classic lore;
Then circling still the penetrating gaze,
Lo! Fitful lifts on high his aged head;
While, far beyond the south extreme, appears
(Seen as an azure cloud) the lone Fair Isle.
The spot where now we stand, exhibiting
Nature's stupendous grandeur, strikes the mind
With solemn thought. Ye precipices rude!
Whose shagged tops usurp the airy reign,
Whose brinks abrupt a near approach forbid;
The dizzied head averts, the eye withdraws,
It seems a danger even to dare a glance;
Yet do you in magnific language speak,
And to the great Creator lift the soul.
The tranquil air is suddenly disturb'd
By wings innumerable rapid beat,
By harsh discordant screaming wildly pierc'd.
Forth from their homes the feather'd nations fly,
"Mix'd and evolv'd," whirling a thousand ways,
Scar'd at the sight of human visitants.
Fear not, ye fluttering parents, we nor wish,
Nor treacherous gun, with deadly metal charg'd,
Bring to destroy your callow, harmless brood;
Retire into your sedge-built, rocky homes,
Where, castled high, ye dwell amid the cliffs,
There, range o'er range, your varied plumage show.
The billows' rage, aiding the power of time
To which full oft yields even the solid rock,
Had, from the parent island, wide disjoin'd
A craggy cliff, whose deep resounding base
Was insulated by the circling wave.
Half way adown the bleak and rugged steep,
Secur'd from most intrepid schoolboy's reach,
Nature, amid a scene whose wild sublime
Might chill the blood and even to horror rouse,
Had dropt a lovely solitary flower,
As remembrancer of another style
Of beauty, by full contrast heighten'd seen.
Of the rose tribe its origin confest,
Full blown, all glowing, dazzling to the eye.
Surprize and admiration seize my mind,
As on the blooming stranger, pleas'd I gaze.
Yet 'twas an unimparted, miser's joy,
For caution's dictates instantly impose
Reluctant silence, since amongst the groupe
Was one whose childish, rash, impetuous years,
Less listen'd to the strict restraint of care,
Than curiosity's supreme impulse;
Which might have urg'd her giddy heedless steps
Toward the precipice, near view to gain
Of the fair blushing beauty of the rock.
This dread forbade participation; mute,
Lingering, absorp't, irresolute I stand.
Sweet Isle of Noss! a greater wonder far
Than rose-crown'd rock thy banks did then afford,
Since there a secret was by woman kept.
(Extract)
Noss Head, also known as Hang Cliff, rises sheer, hundreds of feet above the sea.
Author's Note: Fitful: Fitful Head, a lofty, precipitous cape, at the south western extremity of the country.