Explore "Mary Seaham, Volume II" by Mrs. Grey on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Fain would I fly the haunts of men; / I seek to shun, not hate mankind. / My breast requires the sullen glen, / Whose gloom may suit a darkened mind. / Oh that to me the wings were given / Which bear the turtle to her nest! / Then would I cleave the vault of Heaven, / To flee away, and be at rest. / BYRON.
On the borders of a lake in one of the wildest and most remote parts of / North Wales, stands a rude inn, the resort, during the proper season of / the year, of those who for the sake of the fishing the lake affords, are / content to put up with the homely fare and simple accommodation it / affords. But when that time has passed away -- when the calm, glittering / lake is deformed by constant rains, and lashed into fury by the driving / storms of winter -- when those majestic mountains have exchanged their / ever-varying glories for mists and blackness, have donned their wintry / garb, and are in character with wintry skies -- there cannot be imagined a / more desolate and dreary scene than that spot presents; and the inn, of / course, stands comparatively tenantless. Yet for three whole winter / months, a gentleman of whom none of nobler appearance had ever perhaps / honoured it with their presence, made that humble hostelry his abode.