DEVON AND SOMERSET. 



243 



oaks that remember the days of the Druids 

 reflect on their tough old stems the warm gleam 

 of the after glow. The tinkle of the music 

 fades away up channel, the lighthouse lamps 

 shine clear across the deep, the ravens, scared 

 anon, drop back to their familiar roosting place, 

 and below, where he fought and died, the stag, 

 if he could not be reached that day, lies till 

 to-morrow's tide shall allow the boat to come close 

 in and carry him away, to provide a haunch 

 perhaps for the master's venison feast at 

 Porlock. 



