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With all their crofts and woodlands richly chequer'd,
Have less variety than their bare sides.

MALCOLM.

Yes, when fleet shadows of the summer clouds,

Like staghounds on the chase, each other follow
Along their purple slopes; or when soft haze
Spreads o'er them its light veil of pearly grey,
Through the slight rents of which the sunshine steals,
Showing bright colour'd moss and mottled stones,
Like spots of polish'd beauty,—they appear
Objects of varied vision most attractive.

ALICE.

Then, to behold them in their winter guise,

As I have never done!

MALCOLM.

You might then see their forms enlarged and dark,

Through the dim drapery of drifted rain,
Like grim gigantic chieftains in array,
Bidding defiance to approaching host;
Or lifting their black shoulders o'er the mass
Of volumed vapour gather'd round their base,
Which seem like islands raised above the earth
In purer regions of the firmament.