Salmon Fishing. 141 



in a costly hearse, but on the shoulders of some 

 of the oldest of the tenants, and hundreds upon 

 hundreds accompanied it to the church doors ; 

 how consolatory, thought I, must all this be to 

 the bereft parents! this almost unheard of 

 tribute of a whole town's sympathy ! 



THE WELSH FUNERAL. 



Let nature smile around him, 



And beckon him away 

 To where the river gambols 



In its familiar way. 



The breeze is blowing kindly, 



The rod rests on the wall; 

 Why lingers yet the angler, 



So heedless of it all? 



Silent and sad he listens, 



As booming up the vale 

 The muffled bell comes tolling 



Its last dark, dismal tale. 



Why should the cruel tyrant 



Make that fair girl his prey? 

 Would that another victim, 



Less loved, he'd torn away! 



Hushed is the din of labour, 



No mirthful voice is heard; 

 The only sound of gladness 



Comes from th' unconscious bird. 



