The first is the extra-ordinary love of colour. This is not a
characteristic of the early German, English or Scandinavian poems and
tales. Its remarkable presence in Scottish poetry, at a time when it
is scarcely to be found in English literature, I have traced elsewhere
to the large admixture of Celtic blood in the Lowlands of Scotland. In
early Irish work it is to be found everywhere. In descriptions of
Nature, which chiefly appear in the Fenian Cycle and in Christian
times, colour is not as much dwelt on as we should expect, for nowhere
that I have seen is it more delicate and varied than under the Irish
atmosphere. Yet, again and again, the amber colour of the streams as
they come from the boglands, and the crimson and gold of the
sunsetting, and the changing green of the trees, and the blue as it
varies and settles down on the mountains when they go to their rest,
and the green crystal of the sea in calm and the dark purple of it in
storm, and the white foam of the waves when they grow black in the
squall, and the brown of the moors, and the yellow and rose and
crimson of the flowers, and many another interchanging of colour, are
seen and spoken of as if it were a common thing always to dwell on
colour. This literary custom I do not find in any other Western
literature.
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