The Scottish Celtic review

:!;!—Coir'-a-Cheofhaich. 223And pause and hasten, and whirl in circles,And rusli and loiter, and wliirl and creepOut of the ocean comes the sahnon,Steering with crookbd nose he hies,Hither he darts where the waves are boilingOut he springs at the glistening flies !How he leaps in the whirling eddiesWith back blue-black, and fins that shine.Spangled with silver, and speckled over,With white tail tipping his frame so fine !Gladsome and grand is the misty corri,And there the hunter hath noble cheer;The powder blazes, the black lead rattlesInto the heart of the dun-brown deer ;And there the hunter's hound so bloodyAround the hunter doth leap and play.And madly rushing, most fierce and fearless.Springs at the throat of the stricken prey.'twas gladsome to go a-huntingOut in the dew of the sunny morn IFor the great red stag was never wanting.Nor the fawn, nor the doe with never a horn.And when rain fell, and the night was coming,From the open heath we could swiftlj' fly,And, finding the shelter of some deep grotto,Couch at ease till the night went by.And sweet it was when the white sun glimmered,Listening under the crag to stand.And hear the moorhen so hoarsely croaking,And the red cock murmuring close at hand ;While the little wren blew his tiny trumpet,And threw his steam ofi' blithe and strong,While the speckled thrush and the redbreast gailyLilted together a pleasant song !Not a singer but join'd the chorus.Not a bird in the leaves was stillFirst the laverock, that famous singer,Led the music with throat so shrill