DURING THE PRESENT CENTURY. 279 



" ON SPEARING THE SALMON IN UPPER CANADA. 



The lake's gold and purple have vanished from sight, 



And the glimmer of twilight is merged into night. 



The woods on the borders in blackness are massed, 



And the waters in motionless ebony glassed : 



The stars that first spangled the pearl of the west 



Are lost in the bright blazing crowds of the rest ; 



Light the torch ! launch the boat ! for to-night we are here, 



The salmon, the quick-darting salmon, to spear. 



Let us urge our light craft, by the push of the oar 



Through the serpent-like stems of the lilies near shore : 



We are free turn the prow to yon crescent -shaped cove, 



Made black by the down-hanging boughs of its grove. 



The meek eddy-gurgle that whirls at our dip, 



Sounds low as the wine-head which bursts on the lip. 



On the lake, from the flame of our torch, we behold 



A pyramid pictured in spangles of gold, 



While the marble-like depths, on each side of the blaze, 



Is full of gray sparkles, far in as we gaze. 



From his bank-sheltered nook, the loon utters his cry, 



And the night-hawk darts down with a rush from on high : 



In gutturals hoarse, on his green, slimy log, 



To his shrill piping tribe, croaks the patriarch frog ; 



And the bleat and the bark from the banks mingle faint 



With the anchorite whip-poor-will's mournful complaint. 



We glide in the cove let the torch be flared low, 



And the spot where our victim is lurking 'twill show ; 



Mid the twigs of this dead sunken tree-top he lies, 



Let the spear be poised quick, or good-bye to our prize. 



Down it darts to the blow our best efforts are bent, 



And a white bubbling streak shows its rapid descent j 



We grasp it, as upward it shoots through the air ; 



Three cheers for our luck ! our barbed victim is there ! 



