Loch Hoiirn. 



A halo, and tell you have passed that way, 

 In spite of the clouds that eclipse your ray. 



Beautiful moon, so soft, so bright, 



Like a shepherd watching his flocks by night, 



That wander away and wander far, 



For your flock is planet and trembling star. 



And they seek to serve you in many a guise, 

 And dote most fondly in your fair eyes ; 

 And circle you round in river and lake, 

 With a meek obeisance no winds can break. 



If it blows too roughly, you only smile, 

 The better your followers to beguile ; 

 And you lift a look of sublime repose 

 When the calm of a tempest before it goes. 



The Lightning shakes out its locks in vain ; 

 You walk serenely o'er cloudy plain ; 

 And you look so fair through the fir trees fine, 

 We wonder not men held you once divine." 



All about these Scottish streams are little bits of 

 wild rocky barriers, as it were, where the water is 

 made to leap and toss and curvet, and then fall over 

 green slippery boulders into tiny pools beyond, where 

 the fish and bigger fish than you would believe are 

 often found to lie, waiting for the tit-bits brought down 

 by the stream, or lying half hid watching for their 

 favourite flies which often affect these stiller pools. 

 Here is one of these corners, such as is to be found 

 on many a northern stream. 



And often these streams pour themselves into lakes 

 which lie surrounded by their mountains, open ever to 

 sun, moon, and stars. A typical lake in this respect is 

 Loch Hourn, with its rocky piers and buttresses and 

 shelving hills. What soft, tender, dewy lines of light 

 lie along such a sheet in the sunrise as we oft have 



