'I knew I should
find you here, even without the assistance of my friend Bran. A simple
and unsublimed taste now, like my own, would prefer a jet d'eau at
Versailles to this cascade with all its accompaniments of rock and roar;
but this is Flora's Parnassus, Captain Waverley, and that fountain her
Helicon. It would be greatly for the benefit of my cellar if she could
teach her coadjutor, Mac-Murrough, the value of its influence: he has
just drunk a pint of usquebaugh to correct, he said, the coldness of the
claret.--Let me try its virtues.' He sipped a little water in the hollow
of his hand, and immediately commenced, with a theatrical air,--
'O Lady of the desert, hail!
That lov'st the harping of the Gael,
Through fair and fertile regions borne,
Where never yet grew grass or corn.
But English poetry will never succeed under the influence of a Highland
Helicon.--ALLONS, COURAGE!--
O vous, qui buvez, a tasse pleine,
A cette heureuse fontaine,
Ou on ne voit, sur le rivage,
Que quelques vilains troupeaux,
Suivis de nymphes de village,
Qui les escortent sans sabots'--
'A truce, dear Fergus! spare us those most tedious and insipid persons
of all Arcadia.
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