TRADITION, be thou mute! Oblivion, throw Thy veil in mercy o'er the records, hung Round strath and mountain, stamped by the ancient tongue On rock and ruin darkening as we go, -- Spots where a word, ghostlike, survives to show What crimes from hate, or desperate love, have sprung; From honour misconceived, or fancied wrong, What feuds, not quenched but fed by mutual woe. Yet, though a wild vindictive Race, untamed By civil arts and labours of the pen, Could gentleness be scorned by those fierce Men, Who, to spread wide the reverence they claimed For patriarchal occupations, named Yon towering Peaks, "Shepherds of Etive Glen?" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MEANING OF THE LOOK by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING PAST AND PRESENT by ROWLAND EYLES EGERTON-WARBURTON ON READING 'VORTICIST POEM ON LOVE' by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS TIPPERARY: 2. AS THE TRANSLATORS WOULD HAVE INTERLINED IT . . . by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS LINES FOR THE HOUR by HAMILTON FISH ARMSTRONG THE BROTHERS OF BIRCHINGTON; A LAY OF ST. THOMAS A BECKET by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM ALFARABI; THE WORLD-MAKER. A RHAPSODICAL FRAGMENT by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES |