"For how could river, lake, and sea In softer sister hues agree? Or hills of passionate purple glow Far and near more proudly flow? And when will summer kiss awake Lovelier flowers by lawn or brake? Or brighter berries blush between Foliage of a fresher green?"
There is a story of a tourist who, lingering long in the Holy Land, was pained at the irreverent hurry of an American, who arrived there one afternoon, scurried over the sacred places, and prepared to depart betimes on the morrow. He timidly inquired of the swift-foot why he, who had come so far, rushed away so quickly. "Sir," said the American, "I am timed to do Europe in a fortnight. I have thrown in the Holy Land, but if I stay here longer than one night I cannot see Killarney, which takes three days." He was a wise man in his generation. Although enterprising people have attempted to do the tour of the Lakes in a day, they have always gone away more than satisfied with what they saw, but with hearts hungry to return at a future date, and behold the beauties they had left unseen.
[Illustration: _Photo, Lawrence, Dublin._ On the Upper Lake, Killarney.]
The ~Lakes Of Killarney~ are three in number, connected by a swift-flowing stream, the Long Range, and emptying their waters through the river Laune into Castle Haven, on the Kerry coast. The entire journey can be performed by boat, but in the suggested tours given, both car, and boat, and ponies are pressed into our service.
The divisions of the Lough Lene are:--The Upper Lake (extreme length, two-and-a-half miles; extreme breadth, half-a-mile); the Torc, or Middle Lake (extreme length, two miles; extreme breadth, seven-eighths of a mile); and the Lower Lake (extreme length, five and one-eighth miles; extreme breadth, three miles). The first glimpse caught of the lakes, lying like broad mirrors beneath the high mountains, is a vision of fair delight. Like tall clansmen, Mangerton, Carnthoul, and the gathering Cruacha dhu M'Gillicuddy--the black reeks of the McGillicuddy--muster around, as it were, to re-tell us
"The tale of the spell-stricken band, All entranced, with their bridles and broad swords in hand, Who await but the word to give Erin her own"--
that old legend of the sleeping warriors garrisoned within the mountain's sides, which is met with in more than one Irish county. The Upper Lake is characterised by an untamed, peerless outline, and so near to the mountains does it lie, that the fissures in their rugged sides are almost countable, and the fingers of fancy almost touch the gorse on their slopes. Gliding over its waters, we readily see in them a land-locked sea. A ridge of the Glena mountains shuts it out from the north, the many-peaked reeks guard the passes to the west, and to the south stands up Derrycunnihy--"The Oak Wood of the Rabbits"--between which and Torc is the fair bend of a Glen Coumagloun. Between the lips of the Lakes and the feet of the hills there appears no distance