26 AN ANGLER'S RAMBLES 



XCII. 



Often since then, on weary feet 

 Trudging, I've hail'd the loved retreat 



From Meggat's chimeful river. 

 As relish'd still, the rural fare 

 The welcome which awaits me there 



As hearty found as ever. 



XCIII. 



No change in this ; but at thy hearth 

 Changes peep out and check the mirth 



That thoughtless tongues have started 

 Shadows from Grave-land on me wait, 

 And lead me back to meditate 



Upon the days departed. 



xciv. 



Speak out the staid memorials 

 Depending from the rustic walls ; 



These registers are teeming 

 With memories of friendships dear 

 Of palmy feasts and olden cheer 



That set the soul a-dreaming. 



xcv. 



Wilson was in his glory then ; 



The Shepherd flourish'd rod and pen 



Guests oft at thy snug shieling, 

 Blythe Tib ! each in himself a host ; 

 Then the bards angled, and their toast 



Aspired to heaven's blue ceiling. 



