Volume 3 — SONNET LXXXVI. TO THE LAKE OF KILLARNEY.[97]

Pride of Ierne’s sea-encircled bound, Rival of all Britannia’s Naiads boast, Magnificent Killarney!—from thy coast Tho’ mountains rise with noblest woods embrown’d; Tho’ ten-voiced echoes send the cannon’s sound In thunders bursting the vast rocks around, Till startled wonder and delight exhaust In countless repercussion—isles embost Upon thy liquid glass; their bloomy veil Sorbus and arbutus;—yet not for thee So keenly wakes our local ecstacy, As o’er the narrow, barren, silent dale, Where deeply sleeps, rude circling rocks among, The love-devoted fount enamour’d Petrarch sung.