And mingled with the pine-trees blue
On the bold cliffs of Benvenue.
Fresh vigour with the hope return'd,”
With flying foot the heath he spurn'd,
Held westward with unwearied race,
And left behind the panting chase.

'Twere long to tell what steeds gave o'er,
As swept the hunt through Cambus-more;”
What reins were tighten’d in despair,
When rose Benledi's ridge in air;”
Who flagg'd upon Bochastle's heath,
Who shunn’d to stem the flooded Teith—“

extremity, he has a double echo, of uncommon distinctness. Upon pronouncing, with a firm voice, a line of ten syllables, it is returned, first from the opposite side of the lake; and when that is finished, it is repeated with equal distinctness from the wood on the east. The day must be perfectly calm, and the lake as smooth as glass, for otherwise no human voice can be returned from a distance of at least a quarter of a mile.”—GRAHAM's Sketches of Perthshire, 2d edit. p. 182, &c.) 1 [MS.—“Fresh vigour with the thought return'd, With flying hoof the heath he spurn'd.”] 2 [Cambus-more, within about two miles of Callender, on the wooded banks of the Keltie, a tributary of the Teith, is the seat of a family of the name of Buchanan, whom the poet frequently visited in his younger days.] 8 [Benledi is a magnificent mountain, 3,009 feet in height, which bounds the horizon on the northwest from Callender. The name, according to Celtic etymologists, signifies The Mountain of God.] 4 [Two mountain streams—the one flowing from Loch Woil,


For twice that day, from shore to shore,
The gallant stag swam stoutly o’er.
Few were the stragglers, following far,
That reach'd the lake of Vennachar; *
And when the Brigg of Turk was won.”
The headmost horseman rode alone.

VII. Alone, but with unbated zeal, That horseman plied the scourge and steel; For jaded now, and spent with toil, Emboss'd with foam, and dark with soil,

by the pass of Leny; the other from Loch Katrine, by Loch Achray and Loch Vennachar, unite at Callender; and the river thus formed thenceforth takes the name of Teith. Hence the designation of the territory of Menteith.]

1 [“. Loch Vennachar, a beautiful expanse of water, of about five miles in length, by a mile and a half in breadth.”—GRA HAM.]

2 [“About a mile above Loch Vennachar, the approach (from the east) to the Brigg, or Bridge of Turk, (the scene of the death of a wild boar famous in Celtic tradition,) leads to the summit of an eminence, where there bursts upon the traveller's eye a sudden and wild prospect of the windings of the river that issues from Loch Achray, with that sweet lake itself in front; the gently rolling river pursues its serpentine course through an extensive meadow; at the west end of the lake, on the side of Aberfoyle, is situated the delightful farm of Achray, the level field, a denomination justly due to it, when considered in contrast with the rugged rocks and mountains which surround it. From this eminence are to be seen, also, on the right hand, the entrance to Glenfinlas, and in the distance Benvenue.”—GRAHAM.]


While every gasp with sobs he drew,
The labouring stag strain’d full in view.
Two dogs of black Saint IIubert's breed,
Unmatch'd for courage, breath, and speed,”
Fast on his flying traces came,

1 “The hounds which we call Saint Hubert's hounds, are commonly all blacke, yet neuertheless, the race is so mingled at these days, that we find them of all colours. These are the hounds which the abbots of St. Hubert haue always kept some of their race or kind in honour or remembrance of the saint, which was a hunter with S. Eustace. Whereupon we may conceiue that (by the grace of God) all good huntsmen shall follow them into paradise. To return vnto my former purpose, this kind of dogges hath bene dispersed through the counties of Henault, Loryne, Flanders, and Burgoyne. They are mighty of body, neuertheless their legges are low and short, likewise they are not swift, although they be very good of sent, hunting chaces which are farre straggled, fear ing neither water nor cold, and doe more couet the chaces that smell, as foxes, bore, and such like, than other, because they find themselves neither of swiftness nor courage to hunt and kill the chaces that are lighter and swifter. The bloodhounds of this colour proue good, especially those that are cole blacke, but I made no great account to breed on them, or to keepe the kind, and yet I found a book which a hunter did dedicate to a prince of Lorayne, which seemed to loue hunting much, wherein was a blason which the same hunter gaue to his bloodhound, called Souyllard, which was white:–

“My name came first from holy IIubert's race,
Souyllard my sire, a hound of singular grace.”

Whereupon we may presume that some of the kind proue white sometimes, but they are not of the kind of the Greffiers or Bouxes, which we haue at these dayes.”—The noble Art of Venerie or Hunting, translated and collected for the Use of all Noblemen and Gentlemen. Lond. 1611, 4to, p. 15.

And all but won that desperate game;
For, scarce a spear's length from his haunch,
Vindictive toil'd the bloodhounds stanch;
Nor nearer might the dogs attain,
Nor farther might the quarry strain,
Thus up the margin of the lake,
Between the precipice and brake,
O'er stock and rock their race they take.

The Hunter mark'd that mountain high.
The lone lake's western boundary,
And deem'd the stag must turn to bay,
Where that huge rampart barr'd the way;
Already glorying in the prize,
Measured his antlers with his eyes;
For the death-wound and death-halloo,
Muster'd his breath, his whinyard drew :-"

1 When the stag turned to bay, the ancient hunter had the perilous task of going in upon, and killing or disabling the desperate animal. At certain times of the year this was held particularly dangerous, a wound received from a stag's horn being then deemed poisonous, and more dangerous than ong from the tusk of a boar, as the old rhyme testifies:–

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At all times, however, the task was dangerous, and to be ado ventured upon wisely and warily, either by getting behind the stag while he was gazing on the hounds, or by watching

But thundering as he came prepared,
With ready arm and weapon bared,
The wily quarry shunn'd the shock,
And turn’d him from the opposing rock;
Then, dashing down a darksome glen,

an opportunity to gallop roundly in upon him, and kill him with the sword. See many directions to this purpose in the Booke of Hunting, chap. 41. Wilson the historian has recorded a providential escape which befell him in this hazardous sport, while a youth and follower of the Earl of Essex.

“Sir Peter Lee, of Lime, in Cheshire, invited my lord one summer to hunt the stagg. And having a great stagg in chase, and many gentlemen in the pursuit, the stagg took soyle. And divers, whereof I was one, alighted, and stood with swords drawne, to have a cut at him, at his coming out of the water. The staggs there being wonderfully fierce and dangerous, made us youths more eager to be at him. But he escaped us all. And it was my misfortune to be hindered of my coming nere him, the way being sliperie, by a falle; which gave occasion to some, who did not know mee, to speak as if I had falne for feare. Which being told mee, I left the stagg, and followed the gentleman who [first] spake it. But I found him of that cold temper, that it seems his words made an escape from him; as by his denial and repentance it appeared. But this made mee more violent in the pursuit of the stagg, to recover my reputation. And I happened to be the only horseman in, when the dogs sett him up at bay; and approaching near him on horsebacke, he broke through the dogs, and ran at mee, and tore my horse's side with his hornes, close by my thigh. Then I quitted my horse, and grew more cunning (for the dogs had sette him up again), stealing behind him with my sword, and cut his hamstrings; and then got upon his back, and cut his throate: which, as I was doing, the company came in, and blamed my rashness for running such a hazard.”— PECK's Desiderata Curiosa, ii. 464.

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