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THE dew was falling fast, the stars began | What is it thou wouldst seek? What is to blink;

wanting to thy heart? I heard a voice; it said, “Drink, pretty Thy limbs, are they not strong? And creature, drink !”

beautiful thou art: And, looking o'er the hedge, before me I This grass is tender grass ; these flowers espied

they have no peers; A snow-white mountain lamb with a And that green corn all day is rustling in maiden at its side.

thy ears!

No other sheep were near, the lamb was all | If the sun be shining hot, do but stretch alone,

thy woollen chain, And by a slender cord was tethered to a This beech is standing by, its covert thou stone;

canst gain; With one knee on the grass did the little For rain and mountain storms! the like maiden kneel,

thou need'st not fearWhile to that mountain lamb she gave its The rain and storm are things which evening meal.

scarcely can come here.

The lamb, while from her hand he thus his Rest, little young one, rest; thou hast forsupper took,

got the day Seemed to feast with head and ears; and When my father found thee first in places his tail with pleasure shook.

far away : “Drink, pretty creature, drink,” she said Many flocks were on the hills, but thou in such a tone

wert owned by none; That I almost received her heart into my | And thy mother from thy side for evermore

was gone.


'Twas little Barbara Lewthwaite, a child of He took thee in his arms, and in pity beauty rare !

brought thee home: I watched them with delight, they were & A blessed day for thee! then whither lovely pair.

wouldst thou roam? Now with her empty can the maiden A faithful nurse thou hast; the dam that turned away;

did thee yean But ere ten yards were gone her footsteps Upon the mountain-tops no kinder could did she stay.

have been.

Towards the lamb she looked; and from Thou know'st that twice a day I have that shady place

brought thee in this can I unobserved could see the workings of her Fresh water from the brook, as clear as face:

ever ran; If Nature to her tongue could measured And twice in the day, when the ground is numbers bring,

wet with dew, Thus, thought I, to her lamb that little I bring thee draughts of milk, warm milk maid might sing :

it is and new.

“What ails thee, young one? What? Thy limbs will shortly be twice as stout as Why pull so at thy cord ?

they are now; Is it not well with thee? Well both for Then I'll yoke thee to my cart, like a pony bed and board ?

in the plough: Thy plot of grass is soft, and green as grass My playmate thou shalt be; and when the can be;

wind is cold Rest, little young one, rest; what is't that our hearth shall be thy bed, our house aileth thee?

shall be thy fold.

It will not, will not rest!--poor creature, Why bleat so after me? Why pull so at can it be

thy chain? That 'tis thy mother's heart which is work- Sleep,--and at break of day I will come ing so in thee?

to thee again! Things that I know not of belike to thee are dear,

-As homeward through the lane I went And dreams of things which thou canst

with lazy feet, neither see nor hear.

This song. to myself did I oftentimes re

peat; Alas, the mountain-tops, that look so green And it seemed, as I retraced the ballad and fair!

line by line, I've heard of fearful winds and darkness | That but half of it was hers, and one-half that come there :

of it was mine. The little brooks that seem all pastime

and all play, When they are angry, roar like lions for Again, and once again, did I repeat the

song: “Nay,” said I, more than half to the

damsel must belong; Here thou need'st not dread the raven in For she looked with such a look, and she the sky;

spake with such a tone, Night and day thou art safe, -our cottage That I almost received her heart into my is hard by.



their prey.

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As I drew near, the cottage blazed,

The evening fire was clear and bright, As through the window long I gazed,

And saw each friend with dear delight. My father in his corner sat,

My mother drew her useful thread; My brothers strove to make them chat,

My sisters baked the household bread. And Jean oft whispered to a friend,

And still let fall a silent tear;
But soon my Jessy's grief will end---

She little thinks her Harry's near.

“Oh! does he live?” my father cried;

My mother did not stay to speak; My Jessy now I silent eyed, Who throbbed as if her heart would


What could I do? If in I went,

Surprise would chill each tender heart; Some story, then, I must invent,

And act the poor maimed soldier's part. I drew a bandage o'er my face,

And crooked up a lying knee;
And soon I found, in that best place,

Not one dear friend knew aught of me. I ventured in;-Tray wagged his tail,

He fawned, and to my mother ran : Come here!” she cried; "what can him

ail?" While my feigned story I began. I changed my voice to that of age :

A poor old soldier lodging craves;' The very name their loves engage,

A soldier! aye, the best we have !" My father then drew in a seat;

"You're welcome," with a sigh, he said.

My mother saw her catching sigh,

And hid her face behind the rock, While tears swam round in every eye,

And not a single word was spoke. He lives indeed! this kerchief see,

At parting his dear Jessy gave; He sent it far, with love, by me,

To show he still escapes the grave.” An arrow darting from a bow

Could not more quick the token reach; The patch from off my face I drew,

And gave my voice its well-known speech, "My Jessy dear!” I softly said,

She gazed and answered with a sigh; My sisters looked, as half afraid;

My mother fainted quite for joy. My father danced around his son;

My brothers shook my hand away; My mother said “her glass might run, She cared not now how soon the day !"



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'Twas night-he summoned his accustomed

friends, And on this wise bestowed his last be.


I KNEW a boy, whose infant feet had

trod Upon the blossoms of some seven

springs, And when the eighth came round, and

called him out To gambol in the sun, he turned away, And sought his chamber, to lie down and


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