246 WATERSIDE SKETCHES. 



Arcadian shepherd. Though essentially a town-suckled, 

 town-bred, and town-loving man, he thus warbles : — 



" Give me the brook at the foot of the mountains, 



Where cool, sparkling waters spring fresh from the hill ; 



Give eddying scours, cascade-hollowed fountains. 

 And rills rushing down through the glen to the mill. 



There's a maid at the mill ; there's a trout in the stream ; 



For the trout will I whip ; of the maid let me dream. 



" Ah ! tell me no more of glory or duty. 



Of vict'ries of peace, or triumphs of war ; 

 My mountain-born fish, my mill-nurtured beauty 



Are the only delights that tempt from afar. 

 Yes ; the maid of the mill and the trout of the stream 

 Where'er I may roam ever rise in my dream. 



" The trout it is said loves bright summer weather, 



And merrily plays at the opening of day ; 

 So stroll I to where the brooks join together, 



And wrong would you be should you tauntingly say 

 'Tis the maid at the mill, not the trout in the stream. 

 That hastens my footsteps at dawning's grey gleam. 



" My first cast falls on the hurrying water. 



An old casement creaks 'neath the time-honoured eaves — 

 A miss ! and thy fault, O miller's fair daughter. 



Peeping out from thy bower of dew-covered leaves. 

 Witching maid of the mill ! Lucky trout of the stream ! 

 The angler fares ill who of maidens will dream. 



"Lo ! here by this spot, where merry trout gambol, 

 At noon lies the only protection from heat : 



At evening, perforce, I hitherward ramble — 



Is not the quick flash of the water-wheel sweet ? 



Hush ! The maid of the mill walks forth by the stream ; 



Shall I follow ? Or still idly angle — and dream .' 



