238 EPITAPHS ON ANGLERS. 



Here the hazel boughs aboon, 



That to their mirror beck sae gaily : 



Puir Mat upon an April noon, 



Ghid his lost fish its deadly stoun, 

 An' as it wambled, gaffd it bravely. 



There in yonner stream sae blate, 

 Quoth he, " Whene'er the cocks a crawin, 



Anither cast we'll aiblins get ; " 



But death was tirlin at his yett, 

 An hour or twa afore the dawn. 



In the kirk yaird bield sae green, 

 Auld Watty's laid by saxton Charlie ; 



An' ay on ilka summer's e'en 



I think upon the time that's been 



An' as I wanne*, miss him sairly. Sioddart. 



AN ANGLER'S DEATH-SCENE. 



And when he quits his humble heritage 



It is with no wild strain no violence ; 



But, wafted by a comely angel's breath, 



He glides from Time, and, on immortal sails, 



Weareth the rich dawn of Eternity. Stoddart. 



Not a zound in th' zick man's room ked 1 1 hear, 



Sips 2 ez pankin' an' faintly groanin', 

 An' th' sobs ev ez wive, an' her vast-vallin' tear, 



An' ez childern disconsolate moanin'. 



I stood by th' bed-zide, an' mournvully look'd 

 Ton th' face that I last zeed za chearly. 



Now holler an' pale, that spoke plain ee'd be took'd 

 Vrem th' furns that did love 'en za dearly. 



1 Could. 2 Except. 



