16 THE SCOTTISH ANGLER. 



But glancing from the record rude 



Of the remoter ages, 

 Behold the image of a stag, 

 Timorous of the water-flag, 



Its eager thirst assuages ! 



The stately antlers branching free, 



Above its forehead tragic 

 The form of animated grace, 

 One kindred to the quiet place, 

 A portion of its magic ! 



And there the wild-duck, like a skiff, 

 Shoots from the reeds horrescent ; 



Its yellow paddles in their wake 



Leave on the solitary lake 

 The traces of a crescent. 



The peerly water-heron too, 



Where the faint sunray trembles, 

 Drooping its ever graceful head 

 Above the floating lily-bed, 

 A poet-bird resembles. 



And yonder on the distant marge, 



Behold an angler eager, 

 With taper wand and arm of skill, 

 Under the shadow of the hill, 

 A solitary figure ! 



But falling from the quiet air 



The mist and shades together,' 

 Glideth away the sad sweet show, 

 The mountain and the lake below, 

 The forest and the heather ! 



And night, with dewy forehead bent, 



Holdeth her vigil solemn, 

 Till the red architect of morn, 

 Upon a cloud-car slowly borne, 

 Erects his amber column. 



