Explore "Penelope's Progress" by Kate Douglas Wiggin on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"And soon a score of fires, I ween, / From height, and hill, and cliff, were seen; / Each after each they glanced to sight, / As stars arise upon the night. / They gleamed on many a dusky tarn, / Haunted by the lonely earn; / On many a cairn's grey pyramid, / Where urns of mighty chiefs lie hid. " / _The Lay of the Last Minstrel_.
The rain continued at intervals throughout the day, but as the afternoon wore on the skies looked a trifle more hopeful. It would be "saft," no doubt, climbing the Law, but the bonfire must be lighted. Would Pettybaw be behind London? Would Pettybaw desert the Queen in her hour of need? Not though the rain were bursting the well-heads on Cawda; not though the swollen mountain burns drowned us to the knee! So off we started as the short midsummer night descended.