258 DAYS OF DEEE-STALKING. 



the glen, paused, and drew his sleeve across his eyes, as he 

 thought on his departed chief. 



The bitterness of that hour is now past, and a new dawn 

 breaks over the mountains. The gallant young heir returns 

 to his native hills and floods, radiant with youth and pro- 

 mise ; his people accept the omen. 



Proceed noble chieftain, and fulfil your great duties like 

 him who is gathered to the tomb of his fathers ; and may 

 his mantle sit gracefully on you. May happiness and the 

 well-earned love of your dependants wait upon your foot- 

 steps ; thus the glory shall shine on your brows, and depart 

 not from the halls of your ancestors. 



" Si qua Fata aspera rumpas, 



Tu Marcellus eris 



THE MOOES. 

 By the HON. T. H. LIDDELL. 



THE moors, the moors, the bonny brown moors, 

 Shining and fresh with April showers ! 



"When the wild birds sing 



The return of spring, 



And the gorse and the broom 



Shed the rich perfume 



Of their golden bloom, 



'Tis a joy to revisit the bonny brown moors. 

 Aloft in the air floats the white sea-mew, 

 And pipes his shrill whistle the grey curlew ; 

 And the peewit gambols around her nest, 

 And the heath-cock crows on the mountain's crest ; 

 And freely gushes the dark brown rill, 

 In cadence sweet from the lonely hill ; 

 Where, mingling her song with the torrent's din, 

 As it bubbles and foams in the rocky linn, 

 Twitters and plunges the water- crow 

 In the pool where the trout are springing below ; 

 And the lambs in the sun-shine leap and play 

 By their bleating dams in the grassy brae, 

 With a withered thorn for their try sting place, 

 To mark the goal where their foot-prints trace 

 The narrow course of their sportive race. 

 Oh ! know ye the region in spring more fair 

 Than the banks and the glens of the moorland bare ? 

 The moors ! the moors ! the fragrant moors ! 

 When the heather breaks forth into purple flowers ! 



