176 ANGLING REMINISCENCES. 



within the hallowed semi-circle ! His fireside is the 

 true secret of the Briton's strength and superiority, 

 of his intellect, his patriotism, his piety, and the 

 thousand virtues with which he is adorned ! Rome, 

 like Britain, long as she flourished, venerated her 

 hearth and household lares. 



Swivel. Give the jug an impulse, Bill, and 

 hearken a stave from Jack Leister. The lilting 

 humour is in his throat, an I guess accurately. 

 Out on this thy practice of thrusting soliloquies 

 across our converse ! Is it not better, when a pause 

 is in't, to fill up the occasion with a song? Come, 

 Jack, take the lead. 



[LEISTER Sings.~\ 

 <!& toafcen, tomfos, toafcen ! 



O waken, winds, waken ! the waters are still, 



And silence and sunlight recline on the hill ; 



The angler is watching, beside the green springs, 



For the low, welcome sound of your wandering wings ! 



II. 



His rod is unwielded, his tackle's unfreed, 

 And the withe- woven pannier lies flung on the mead ; 

 He looks to the lake, through its fane of green trees, 

 And sighs for the curl of the cool, summer breeze. 



III. 



Calm-bound is the form of the water-bird fair, 

 And the spear of the rush stands erect in the air, 

 And the dragon-fly roams o'er the lily-bed gay, 

 Where basks the bold pike in a sun-smitten bay. 



