We gazed on Corryvrekin’s whirl,
  We sailed by Jura’s shore,
Where sang of old the mermaid-girl,
  Whose shell is heard no more;
We came to Fingal’s pillared cave,
  That minster in the sea,
And sang—while clapped its hands the wave
  And worshipped even as we.

But when, at fair Iona’s bound,
  We leaped upon its soil,...