Like that which frowns round dark Loch Skene.1 There eagles scream from isle to shore; Just on the edge, straining his ken Where, deep deep down, and far within, And wheeling round the Giant's Grave, 1 Loch Skene is a mountain lake, of considerable size, at the head of the Moffat-water. The character of the scenery is uncommonly savage; and the earn, or Scottish eagle, has, for many ages, built its nest yearly upon an islet in the lake. Loch Skene discharges itself into a brook, which, after a short and precipitate course, falls from a cataract of immense height, and gloomy grandeur, called, from its appearance, the "Grey Mare's Tail." The "Giant's Grave," afterwards mentioned, is a sort of trench, which bears that name, a little way from the foot of the cataract. It has the appearance of a battery, designed to command the pass. White as the snowy charger's tail, Marriott, thy harp, on Isis strung, 1 See various ballads by Mr. Marriott, in the 4th vol. of the Border Minstrelsy. |