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It seemed as if Burns were trifling with a noble subject. But it was in a summer sunset, beside a window looking out on Ettrick and the hill of the Three Brethren's Cairn, that I first read, with the dearest of all friends, how "The stag at eve had drunk his fill Where danced the moon on Monan's rill, And deep his midnight lair had made In lone Glenartney's hazel shade."
As she skated she chanted, to improvised tunes, bits of verse. "The stag at eve had drunk his fill Where danced the moon on Monan's rill And deep his midnight lair had laid In lone Glenartney's hazel shade. "I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris and he, I galloped, Dirk galloped, we galloped all three.
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