| Upon leaving this enchanting spot, we crossed over to O’Sullivan’s cascade, a mountain stream roaring down a rocky channel on the side of Glenaa. We were conducted through a winding unequal path, deeply overshadowed with trees, which lessened as we approached the fall, upon which the sun shone brilliantly; the leafless branch of a blasted oak stretched half-across it; its rebounding foam, white as the driven snow, spread as it were a muslin veil over the light green of the shrubs which crowned the summit of the fall, and the grey and moss-covered rocks, over which the descending waters roared to the lake. Upon our return, I was informed that Glenaa was till lately entirely clothed with the finest woods. Oh that the Genius of the lakes could have prevailed upon the noble Lord of the mountain (Lord Kenmare) to have spared this vegetable massacre, this melancholy, I had almost said sacrilegious mutilation! <br>Procumbunt piceae, sonat icta securibus ilex, <br>Fraxineaeque trabes; cuneis et fissile robur<br>Scinditur: advolvunt ingentes montibus ornos. – VIRGIL. <br>Although stripped of its leafy honours by the axe, it still presented a majestic appearance: one side of it was [p. 377] finely feathered with oak, holly, and arbutus, and those parts which the woodman had denuded were covered over with a rich warm brown tint. [pp. 376-377] |
