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Some little I've seen of blind boisterous works
A PASTORAL. The dew was falling fast, the stars began 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.
No other sheep was near, the lamb was all alone,
The lamb, while from her hand he thus his supper took, Seemed to feast with head and ears: and his tail with
pleasure shook. “Drink, pretty creature, drink,” she said in such a tone That I almost received her heart into iny own. •
'Twas little Barbara Lewthwaite, a child of beauty rare !
Towards the lamb she looked; and from that shady place
“What ails thee, young one? what? Why pull so at
thy cord ? Is it not well with thee? well both for bed and board ? Thy plot of grass is soft, and green as grass can be ; Rest, little young one, rest; what is't that aileth thee? “What is it thou would'st seek? What is 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 ! “If the sun be shining hot, do but stretch thy woollen
chain, This beech is standing by, its covert thou canst gain; For rain and mountain storms! the like thou need'st not
fearThe rain and storm are things that scarcely can come
“Rest, little young one, rest; thou hast forgot the day When my father found thee first in places far away, Many flocks were on the hills, but thou wert owned by
none, And thy mother from thy side for evermore was gone.
“He took thee in his arms, and in pity brought thee
home. A blessed day for thee! then whither wouldst thou roam? A faithful nurse thou hast; the dam that did thee yean Upon the mountain tops no kinder could have been. “Thou know'st that twice a day I have brought thee in
this can Fresh water from the brook, as clear as ever ran ;
And twice in the day, when the ground is wet with dew, I bring thee draughts of milk, warm milk it is and new.
“Thy limbs will shortly be twice as stout as they are now, Then I'll yoke thee to my cart like a pony in the plough; My playmate thou shalt be; and when the wind is cold Our hearth shall be thy bed, our house shall be thy fold.
“It will not, will not rest !--poor creature, can it be
“Alas, the mountain tops that look so green and fair!
“Here thou need'st not dread the raven in the sky; Night and day thou art safe,-our cottage is hard by. Why bleat so after me? Why pull so at thy chain ? Sleep-and at break of day I will come to thee again!"
As homeward through the lane I went with lazy feet,
Again, and once again, did I repeat the song ; “Nay,” said I, “more than half to the damsel must
belong, For she looked with such a look, and she spake with
such a tone, That I almost received her heart into my own."
A PASTORAL. The valley rings with mirth and joy; Among the hills the echoes play A never, never, ending song, To welcome in the May The magpie chatters with delight; The mountain raven's youngling brood Have left the mother and the nest; And they go rambling east and west In search of their own food; Or through the glittering vapours dart In very wantonness of heart.
Beneath a rock upon the grass, Two boys are sitting in the sun; Boys that have had no work to do, Or work that now is done. On pipes of sycamore they play The fragments of a Christmas hymn; Or with that plant which in our dale We call stag-horn, or fox's tail, Their rusty hats they trim; And thus, as happy as the day, Those shepherds wear the time away.
Along the river's stony marge
Keep jubilee; and more than all,
Said Walter, leaping from the ground,
Down to the stump of yon old yew We'll for our whistles run a race." --Away the shepherds flew. They leapt, they ran, and when they came Right opposite to Dungeon-Ghyll, Seeing that he should lose the prize, “Stop!” to his comrade Walter cries--James stopped with no good will: Said Walter then, “Your task is here, 'Twill baffle you for half a year.
“Cross, if you dare, where I shall cross--
With staff in hand, across the cleft