CHRISTOPHER IN HIS SPORTING JACKET 



as impious as to have killed a sacred Ibis stalking in 

 the shade of an Egyptian temple. Yet it is fortunate 

 for thee folded up there, as thou art, as motionless 

 as thy sitting-stone that at this moment we have no 

 fire-arms for we had heard of a fish-like trout in 

 that very pool, and this O Heron is no gun but a 

 rod. Thou belie vest thyself to be in utter solitude 

 no sportsman but thyself in the chasm for the otter, 

 thou knowest, loves not such very rocky rivers; and 

 fish with bitten shoulder seldom lies here that epi- 

 cure's tasted prey. Yet within ten yards of thee lies 

 couched thy enemy, who once had a design upon thee, 

 even in the veiy egg. Our mental soliloquy disturbs 

 not thy watchful sense for the air stirs not when the 

 soul thinks, or feels, or fancies about man, bird, or 

 beast. We feel, O Heron! that there is not only hu- 

 manity but poetry, in our being. Imagination haunts 

 and possesses us in our pastimes, colouring them even 

 with serious solemn and sacred light and thou 

 assuredly hast something priest-like and ancient in 

 thy look and about thy light-blue plume robes, 

 which the very elements admire and reverence the 

 waters wetting them not nor the winds ruffling 

 and moreover we love thee Heron for the sake of 

 that old castle, beside whose gloom thou utteredst thy 

 first feeble cry! A Ruin nameless, traditionless sole, 

 undisputed property of Oblivion! 

 [67] 



