And hitherward pursued its way : This ponderous Block was caught by me, And o'er your head, as you may see, 'Tis hanging to this day! The Thing had better been asleep, Whatever thing it were, Or Breeze, or Bird, or Dog, or Sheep, For you and your green twigs decoy To come and slumber in your bower; Both you and he, Heaven knows how soon! Will perish in one hour. From me this friendly warning take❞— The Broom began to doze, And thus to keep herself awake Did gently interpose: "My thanks for your discourse are due; That more than what you say is true, I know, and I have known it long; Frail is the bond by which we hold Wise, foolish, weak, or strong. Disasters, do the best we can, For me, why should I wish to roam? This spot is my paternal home, It is my pleasant Heritage; My Father, many a happy year, Here spread his careless blossoms, here Attained a good old age. Even such as his may be my lot. What cause have I to haunt My heart with terrors? Am I not On me such bounty Summer pours, The Butterfly, all green and gold, To me hath often flown, Here in my Blossoms to behold When grass is chill with rain or dew, "Her voice was blithe, her heart was light; The Broom might have pursued Her speech, until the stars of night Their journey had renewed: But in the branches of the Oak Two Ravens now began to croak Their nuptial song, a gladsome air; "One night, my Children! from the North There came a furious blast; At break of day I ventured forth, The storm had fallen upon the Oak And struck him with a mighty stroke, The little careless Broom was left IX. SONG FOR THE SPINNING WHEEL. FOUNDED UPON A BELIEF PREVALENT AMONG THE PASTORAL VALES OF WESTMORLAND. SWIFTLY turn the murmuring wheel ! Help, as if from fairy power; Dewy night o'ershades the ground; Turn the swift wheel round and round! Now, beneath the starry sky, Short-lived likings may be bred |