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54                               ORTHOMETRY.
Thy vows are | all broken,
And light is | thy fame, I hear thy | name spoken,
And share in | its shame.
This is perhaps better scanned as follows :
Macgregor, | Macgregor, | remember | our foemen ! The morn ri | ses broad from | the brow of | Ben Lomond ; The clans are | impatient | and chide thy | delay. Arise, let | us bound to | Glenlyon | away.
In the extracts which follow, all of which are full of melody, the rhythm is so varied that it is diffi­cult to pronounce with certainty which of the mea­sures predominates.
Now silently poised o'er the war of the main, Like the spirit of Charity brooding o'er pain ; Now gliding with pinion all silently furled, Like an angel descending to comfort the world.
Gerald Grijfin.
Mount Blanc is the monarch of mountains,
We crowned him long ago, On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds,
With a diadem of snow. Around his waist are forests braced,
The av'lanche in his hand ; But ere it fall, that thundering ball
Must pause for my command.