History of the Clan MacLean from its first settlement at Duard Castle, in the Isle of Mull, to the present period

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Appendix.
No. 18. — The Isle of Inch Kenneth.
By Dr, Samuel Johnson.
[Dr. Johnson, the noted English philosopher and writerrwas born in 170!), and died in 1784. The Sun-
day he passed on Inch Kenneth made such an Impression on his mind that he afterward vvrote in Latin a
sonnet called "Insula Sancti Kennethi." Afterward, he made various alterations in it. It may be said to
have been dedicated to the amiable Sir Allan MacLean and his accomplished daughters. It was trans-
lated into English by Sir Daniel K. Sandford, formerly professor of Greek in the University of Glasgow.
The original Latin and the English version may be found in Boswell's Tour to the Hebrides.]
Scarce spied amidst the west sea foam.
Yet once religion's chosen home,
Appears the isle whose savage race
By Kenneth's voice was won to grace.
O'er glassy tides I thither flew,
The wonders of the spot to view;
In lonely cottage great MacLean
Held his high ancestral reign.
With daughters fair, whom love might deem
The Naiads of the ocean stream;
Yet not in chilly cavern rude
Were they, like Danube's lawless brood.
But all that charms a polished age,
The tuneful lyre, the learned page,
Combined to beautify and bless
That life of ease and loneliness.
Now dawned the day whose holy light
Puts human hopes and cares to flight,
Nor mid the hoarse waves' circling swell
Did Worship here forget to dwell.
What though beneath a woman's hand
The sacred volume's leaves expand,
No need of priestly sanction there,
The sinless heart malces holy prayer!
Then wherefore further seek to rove,
While here is all our hearts approve —
Repose, security, and love?
No. 19. — A Lay of Clan Maclean.
[This poem was furnished me by Mrs. Helen MacLean Wotherspoon of the city of New York, accom-
panied by the following note: " I send you a copy of some poetry that was read at the birthday dinner of
Herr MacLean in Berlin some years ago. This Herr MacLean held a very iraporlaut position in the Ger-
man government, and was much esteemed while he lived. I do not know who wrote the poetry. It was
received at the dinner with enthusiasm." It reached me too late for insertion in the proper place.]
PKOLOHUB.
With pen and ink and eke pen-wiper,
A clerk would fain indite a song;
He would he*were a Highland piper,
To blow a bagpipe loud and long.
About the Clan MacLean of Duard,
The Archies, Lachlans, Hughs and Johns;
As good a clan as royal Stuart,
And better than the German " Vons."
The clerk himself is come of Japhet,
Though neither " Mac " nor " Von " he be.
In ancestry there's naught to laugh at;
Who mocks, no grandfather had he!
The men who venerate their fathers,
Desire their sons should do the same,
'Tis thus a race its essence gathers,
'Tis thus ennobled is a name!
SONG.
The Isles that stud the stormy waters
Of Caledonia's rugged strands.
Send warlike sons and ■jentle daughters
To brace the blood of tamer lands.
They leave the islands of the far West,
The cradle of the iron Gael —
For scanty is the Highland harvest.
Too many mouths — too little kale.
No purple grapes, but oats and barley
Give nerve and blood to the MacLeans,
Yet loyal blood that flowed for Charlie
Still circles in their children's veins.
Their fathers supped oatmeal and whisky,
Their beds were made of fragrant heath,
Their heads were cool, their legs wore frisky,
Their hearts like fires the plaids beneath.