182 



THE ANGLER'S SOUVENIR. 





floated in the sky, no sound was heard save the 

 lowing of the cattle standing knee-deep in the 

 shallows ; it was noon on a hot summer's day, and 



we sat on the top of a cliff viewing a fair scene 



what wonder then that one of us, feeling within 

 himself the poetry of the scene, and unable to 

 express it in his own words, broke into the words 

 of anothar? Seated with his back against a rock, 

 and his eyes half closed, he repeated with soft- 

 syllabled voice, "The Lotos Eaters," and part of 

 it was very apt : 



" All round the coast the languid air did swoon, 

 Breathing like one that hath a weary dream ; 

 Full-faced above the valley stood the moon, 

 And like a downward smoke the slender stream 

 Along the cliff to fall, and pause, and fall did seem. 

 A land of streams ! Some, like a downward smoke, 

 Slow-dropping veils of thinnest lawn, did go ; 

 And sorns thro' wavering lights and shadows broke, 

 Rolling a slumberous sheet of foam below. 

 They saw the gleaming 1 river seaward flow 

 From the inner land : far off, three mountain-tops, 

 Three silent pinnacles of aged snow, 

 Stood sunset-flush' d ; and dew'd with showery drops, 

 Upclomb the shadowy pine above the woven copse." 



" Where is Herbert ? " cried the Gipsy, who was 

 of a more practical turn than any of us. 



Viator, who was spouting the poetry, looked dis- 

 gusted at the interruption. Herbert's absence did 

 not warrant the spoiling of the display of his best 

 recitative powers, he thought. But the Gipsy had 



