126 



the extremity appears singularly grand, in parts 

 singularly picturesque, and the view of the 

 surrounding scenery, from Cove to Kirkston, is 

 astonishingly suhlime and beautiful. 



WRITTEN IN PENCIL, ON THE DOOR OF AN INN, IN ONE OF THE REMOTE 

 DISTRICTS OF WESTMORLAND (1846). 



The dark grey of gloamin', 



The lone leafy shaw, 

 The coo of the cushat, 



The scent of the haw ; 

 The brae of the burnie, 



All decked out with flowers, 

 Where two kindred anglers, 



Spent many sweet hours. 



A flask of good whiskey, 



Sandwiches and ale, 

 A smiling good housewife, 



When our fishing doth fail ; 

 With plenty of joking, 



And singing, and fun, 

 Give zest to the sporting 



With rod and the gun. 



Ye, lost to all pleasure, 



Whom avarice can move, 

 Ne'er to stir from your lairs, 



Nor by streamlet to rove ; 

 Away with your sorrows, 



Away with your store, 

 Ye know not the pleasures 



Of angling an hour. 



