SEPTEMBER. 269 



in a moment. The shooter in truth enjoys to the 

 utmost what is here said of 



THE HUNTER. 



High life for a hunter ! he meets on the hill 



The new-waken'd daylight, so bright and so still; 



And feels, as the clouds of the morning unroll, 



The silence, the splendour, ennoble his soul. 



'Tis his on the mountains to stalk like a ghost, 



Enshrouded in mist, in which nature is lost, 



Till he lifts up his eyes, and flood, valley and height, 



In one moment all swim in one ocean of light ; 



While the sun, like a glorious banner unfurl'd, 



Seems to wave o'er a new, more magnificent world. 



'Tis his, by the mouth of some cavern his seat, 



The lightning of heaven to behold at his feet, 



While the thunder below him that growls from the cloud 



To him comes in echo more awfully loud. 



When the clear depth of noontide with glittering motion 



O'erflows the lone glens, an aerial ocean ; 



When the earth and the heavens, in union profound, 



Lie blended in beauty that knows not a sound. 



As his eyes in the sunshiny solitude close, 



'Neath a rock of the desert in dreamy repose, 



He sees in his slumbers such visions of old 



As wild Gaelic songs to his infancy told, 



O'er the mountains a thousand plumed hunters are borne, 



And he starts from his dream at the blast of the horn. 



WILSON. 



But let us leave the 'sportsman for the general 

 aspect of nature, which is now decidedly autumnal. 

 The trees are beginning to change colour ; the 

 orchards are affluent of pears, plums, and apples ; 

 and the hedges are filled with the abundance of their 

 23* 



