 | Hunting Songs |  |
Sport in the Highlands.
WRITTEN AT TOLLY HOUSE IN ROSS-SHIRE.
I
Up in the morning! the river runs merrily,Clouds are above and the breezes blow cool,
Tie the choice fly now, and casting it warily,
Fish the dark ripple that curls o'er the pool;
83
On through the spray with him,
Gaff, and away with him
On to the shore!
Pastime at Tolly now,
Oh! it is jolly now,
Sad melancholy now
Haunts us no more!
II
Up in the morning! young birds in full feather now,Brood above brood on the mountain side lie;
Setters well broken are ranging the heather now,
Bird after bird taking wing but to die!
Home then to number
The grouse that encumber
Our gillies, where slumber
To toil gives relief.
Pastime at Tolly now,
Oh! it is jolly now,
No melancholy now,
Sorrow, or grief.
III
Up! up! at peep-o-day, clad for a tussle now!—Keen eyes have mark'd the wild hart on the hill;
84
All will be needed, ere testing his skill!
Gillies now frolicking,
Roaring and rollicking,
Hey! for a grollocking,—
Rip up the deer,
Pastime at Tolly now,
Oh! it is jolly now,
No melancholy now
Haunteth us here.
IV
Up! up! at peep-o-day; what may your pleasure be?Black-cock or ptarmigan, roebuck or hare?
Bright with delight let each moment of leisure be,
Left in the lowlands, a fig for dull care!
Wood, stream, and heather now,
Yielding together now,
Sport for all weather now,—
Up in the morn!
Pastime at Tolly now,
Oh! it is jolly now,
Sad melancholy, now
Laugh her to scorn!
1845.
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