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ANGLING IN LOCH NEAGH.
O ! bold singing spirit of Loch Neagh's lovely vale, How sweet is thy music, how charming thy tale; When my mind's made to dwell on those that are gone, When I trace not their footsteps, but wander alone, When my angliug companions have all gone away, Then I think on those sports that are stampt with decay.
Still lovely to me are thy waters so bright,
Thy line sparkling trout and thy breezes so light ;
How oft on thy bosom I've guided the oar,
To friends show'd thy beauties, ne'er witness'd before,
When with rapture we heard thy wild Irish strain,
Ah ! when shall such souuds be re-echoed again.
How oft on thy banks so flow'ry and grand,
When the moon sheds her silvery rays on the land,
I've thrown the long line in thy long inland deeps,
Where the ponderous pike in security sleeps;
And have waited with patience the first dawn of day,
So noble a prize I might carry away.
May thy banks and thy landscapes long keep their roll, May they long please the eye and ravish the soul; Thy scenes may the angler with glee long repair, To handle the rod, and his full sport to share ; For nought can surpass the sweet pleasure which glows From sources which beauties so varied disclose. Ballymena, J844.