Classic Poem

I.

Angling on a summer night,
 When the moon-ray met the fairy
Tripping down a bank of light,
 To the sweet loch of St. Mary;
Music floated sad and holy,
 Every wild flower lent its tone,
And the sullen trout swam slowly,
 Like the shadow of a stone.

II.

From the bank on Meggat stream,
 Where a quiet fountain gushes
And the undulating gleam
 Glances through a tuft of rushes;
There I threw the silv'ry palmer
 With a meditating arm,
For the crystal pool lay calmer
 Than a sea beneath a charm.

III.

Was it but a fancied fin
 O'er the glassy water gliding,
As I dropt the feather in,
 Like an insect half confiding,
Gently mov'd and lightly shaken—
 Neared a little—wiling out,
Till the fatal hook was taken
 By a huge and gleamy trout?

IV.

Quick as thought, the line unwound
 Flew along the streamlet narrow,
With the sharp and rapid sound
 Of a solitary arrow;
But a gentle effort leading
 On the bank the captive lay,
Tir'd, and quivering and bleeding,
 In his starry, rich array.

V.

Proudly gazed I to the lake,
 And the moonshafts, slant and slender,
On its bosom lay awake,
 Like an armoury of splendour;
Proudly gazed I to the mountain;
 Voices floated far and wide,
From the breeze, the flow'r, the fountain,
 Blessing me on every side!