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Monan's had its tongue tied when the 'draive' was off the coast, lest its knell should frighten away the shining myriads of the deep. We climbed the shoulder of a great green cliff until we could sit on the rugged rocks at the top and overlook the sea. The bluff is well named Nirly Scaur, and a wild desolate spot it is, with grey lichen-clad boulders and stunted heather on its summit.
But when Alan reached the lines "The stag at eve had drunk his fill Where danced the moon on Monan's rill," Sandy sat up and began to think the despised poem might amount to something after all. Jean had finished the dishes by this time and sat cross-legged with her chin in her hand, staring into the fire, as Alan read how the splendid stag pursued by hunters,
The Stag at eve had drunk his fill Where danced the moon on Monan's rill, she began, and it was as though she had stepped into a boat and was swept off by a strong current.
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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