AND ANGLING SONGS. C 



XXIV. 



Wild Tummel ! nursed on Rannoch's lap, 

 Where many a legend of mishap 



Lends to the terrors reigning, 

 And fed in thine expanded course 

 By savage Erocht roaring hoarse 



What time the moon is waning ! 



XXV. 



To thee, confides Schihallion 



The joys and sorrows of his throne, 



The sun-gleam and the shadow ; 

 All the strong burthen of his breast 

 Is laid on thine, from steep and crest 



Down to the enamell'd meadow. 



XXVI. 



The mystery of beauty dwells 

 With thee, unrobing in thy dells, 



And wantoning round thy fountains ; 

 Winter and summer fall and spring 

 Works the sweet spell, within its ring 



Of forests, lakes, and mountains. 



XXVII. 



Oft shouldering my trusty wand, The angler 



crosseth the 



I've traversed the stern Grampian land Grampians. 



Made famous by the Roman, 

 And conjured from grey mound and fosse 

 Fierce cohorts deluging the moss, 



In shadow of the gloamin' ! 



