Chapter 10 No.10

The noble stag was pausing now

Upon the mountain's southern brow,

Where broad extended, far beneath,

The varied realms of fair Menteith.note

90 With anxious eye he wandered o'er

Mountain and meadow, moss and moor,

And pondered refuge from his toil,

By far Lochard or Aberfoyle.note

But nearer was the copsewood grey,

95 That waved and wept on Loch-Achray,note

And mingled with the pine-trees blue

On the bold cliffs of Benvenue.note

Fresh vigor with the hope returned,

With flying foot the heath he spurned,

100 Held westward with unwearied race,

And left behind the panting chase.