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THE PET LAMB.

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

I heard a voice; it said, "Drink, pretty creature, drink!"

And, looking o'er the hedge, before me I espied

A snow-white mountain lamb with a maiden at its side.

wanting to thy heart?

Thy limbs, are they not strong? And beautiful thou art:

This grass is tender grass; these flowers they have no peers;

And that green corn all day is rustling in thy ears!

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

thy woollen chain,

This beech is standing by, its covert thou canst gain;

And by a slender cord was tethered to a stone; With one knee on the grass did the little For rain and mountain storms! the like maiden kneel, thou need'st not fear

While 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.

own.

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

brought thee home:

A blessed day for thee! then whither wouldst thou roam?

I watched them with delight, they were a lovely pair. Now with her empty can the maiden A faithful nurse thou hast; the dam that turned away; But ere ten yards were gone her footsteps Upon the mountain-tops no kinder could did she stay.

did thee yean

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:

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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

That 'tis thy mother's heart which is work

ing so in thee?

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

And dreams of things which thou canst neither see nor hear.

Alas, the mountain-tops, that look so green and fair!

thy chain?

Sleep,-and at break of day I will come to thee again!"

-As homeward through the lane I went with lazy feet,

This song, to myself did I oftentimes re peat;

And it seemed, as I retraced the ballad line by line,

I've heard of fearful winds and darkness That but half of it was hers, and one-half

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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.

own. '

"

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THE MOTHER AND HER CHILD.

BESIDE her mother sat a darling child,

Wasted by sickness, from whose cheek the bloom

Had passed away: her large blue eyes, as mild

And soft-as lovely as the sky in June, Were fixed upon the morning star, so

soon,

Like her own life, to melt in glorious day; And as its pale beams trembled in the

room,

Her heart throbbed wildly, for they seemed to say

In whispers, to her spirit, "Come with us away!"

"Mother, dear mother, lift my weary head, And lay it gently on your own dear breast; Now kiss me, mother-let your smiles be shed

Upon my heart, for soon your child will rest,

Far from your care, with saints and angels blest:

Its mellow light before it dies, and sing-
I feel so well-the little hymn, the

same

You taught me, months ago, that e'er would bring

Our souls so near to heaven as on an unseen wing."

The mother's heart was lifted up in prayer, As rose the infant voice upon her ear: The note hung quivering on the balmy air,

Like that of some sweet birdling, soft and clear;

While round the child, dispelling every

fear,

Came floating visions from the land her dream

Had pictured to her happy soul so near; Then, as the song poured forth, the warbled theme

But seemed an anthem echoed from a brighter scene.

For I have had a dream of that bright She stopped, her head drooped low; the

land

Where spirits dwell; and like the golden

west

At sunset was the glory of the band I saw, And soon shall with them near the Saviour stand.

See, mother, that bright star is almost gone! It wears to me a blissful smile, and fain My aching heart would have it live-it shone

So sweetly on it that it hushed its pain, Come, lift me up, and let me see again

trembling strain

Was broken where the gushing melody Was softly lingering on the hallowed

Name

Whose praises angels sound eternally. Quickly the mother sunk upon her knee, And from her snowy forehead threw the long

Dark tresses, and gazed upon her wildly: The note seemed fluttering yet upon her tongue

But she was dead!-her heart had broken with her song!

Christian Advocate and Journal.

TO MY MOTHER.

THEY tell us of an Indian tree,
Which, howsoe'er the sun and sky
May tempt its boughs to wander free,
And shoot and blossom wide and high,

Far better loves to bend its arms

Downward again to that dear earth,

From which the life which fills and warms Its grateful being once had birth.

And thus, tho' wooed by flattering friends,
And fed with fame-if fame it be-
This heart, my own dear mother, bends
With love's true instinct back to thee.
MOORE.

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