THE ANGLERS SOUVENIR. 



But what are such joys to the pleasure of straying 

 By the side of a stream, a long line throwing free, 



The salmon and trout with a neat fly betraying ? 

 Fit your rods, and away to the fishing with me I 



To awaken the milkmaid, the cock is yet crowing, 



She was out late last night, with young Hodge, at the 



fair ; 

 To be milked yet the cows in the loaning are lowing ; 



We'll be at our sport ere young Nelly be there. 

 The weather is prime, and the stream in good order ; 



Arouse ye, then, anglers, wherever you be, 

 In Scotland, in Ireland, in Wales, on the Border, 



Fit your rods, and away to the fishing with me ! 



FISHER. Good ! 



" In Scotland, in Ireland, in Wales, on the Border, 

 Fit your rods, and away to the fishing with me ! '' 



Some one has been conjuring with your song, 

 Tweddell, for three spirits have already appeared at 

 the invocation an anonymous angler in Ireland, 

 Hansard in Wales, and Stephen Oliver on the 

 Border. But the spell has not been sufficiently 

 powerful to rouse that master-spirit in Scotland, to 

 whom every stream and loch is known in that 



" Land of the mountain and the flood ; " 



who at one time may be seen throwing his light 

 fly in the Tweed, by the "lovely levels of holy 

 Ashiestiel," consecrated as having been formerly 

 the residence of Sir Walter Scott, 



