Lines on the Fall of Fyers, near Loch Ness

Among the heathy hills and ragged woods The roaring Fyers pours his mossy floods; Till full he dashes on the rocky mounds, Where, thro' a shapeless breach, his stream resounds. As high in air the bursting torrents flow, As deep recoiling surges foam below, Prone down the rock the whitening sheet descends, And viewless Echo's ear, astonished, rends. Dim-seen, through rising mists and ceaseless showers, The hoary cavern, wide-surrounding, lowers: Still thro' the gap the struggling river toils, And still, below, the horrid cauldron boils.


Dawn Steele

About this work

This is a poem by Robert Burns. It was written in 1787 and is read here by Dawn Steele.

Themes for this poem


Selected for 31 August

In yesterday's selection a Perthshire waterfall failed to inspire verses worthy of its beauty. Today's cataract cascades near Inverness. But the poem Burns wrote on his August travels through the Highlands, is alas no better; another hackneyed performance cobbled together from stock and stereotype, a 'horrid cauldron' indeed. There will be more (and better) from the Highland tour as it continues into September.

Donny O'Rourke

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