Dool and wae for the order sent our lads to the Border!

The English, for ance, by guile wan the day; The Flowers of the Forest, that fought aye the foremost,

The prime o' our land, are cauld in the clay. 20

We hear nae mair lilting at our ewe-milking;
Women and bairns are heartless and wae;
Sighing and moaning on ilka green loaning—
The Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away. 24
1755.
Jean Elliot.

WE ARE SEVEN

-A SIMPLE Child,

That lightly draws its breath,
And feels its life in every limb, "

What should it know of death?

She was eight years old, she said;
Her hair was thick with many a curl

That clustered round her head.

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She had a rustic, woodland air,

And she was wildly clad:

Her eyes were fair, and very fair,
Her beauty made me glad.

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12

"Sisters and brothers, little Maid,

How many may you be?”

"How many? Seven in all," she said And wondering looked at me.

"And where are they? I pray you tell."
She answered, "Seven are we;
And two of us at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea.

“Two of us in the church-yard lie,
My sister and my brother;
And in the church-yard cottage, I
Dwell near them with my mother."

"You say that two at Conway dwell,

And two are gone to sea,
Yet ye are seven!-I pray you tell,
Sweet Maid, how this may be."

Then did the little Maid reply,

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Seven boys and girls are we;

Two of us in the church-yard lie,
Beneath the church-yard tree."

"You run about, my little Maid,

Your limbs they are alive;

If two are in the church-yard laid,

Then ye are only five."

་་

“Their graves are green, they may be seen

The little Maid replied,

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Twelve steps or more from my mother's

door,

And they are side by side.

"My stockings there I often knit,
My kerchief there I hem;
And there upon the ground I sit,

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And sing a song to them.

And often after sunset, Sir,
When it is light and fair,

I take my little porringer,
And eat my supper there.

"The first that died was sister Jane;
In bed she moaning lay,

Till God released her of her pain;
And then she went away.

'So in the church-yard she was laid;
And, when the grass was dry,
Together round her grave we played,
My brother John and I.

And when the ground was white with

snow,

And I could run and slide,

My brother John was forced to go,
And he lies by her side."...

"How many are you, then," said I, "If they two are in heaven?"

Quick was the little Maid's reply,
"O Master! we are seven."

"But they are dead; those two are dead!
Their spirits are in heaven!"
'T was throwing words away; for still
The little Maid would have her will,
And said, "Nay, we are seven!"

1798.

William Wordsworth.

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LUCY GRAY

OR, SOLITUDE

OFT I had heard of Lucy Gray:
And, when I crossed the wild,
I chanced to see at break of day
The solitary child.

No mate, no comrade Lucy knew;
She dwelt on a wide moor,

-The sweetest thing that ever grew

Beside

a

human door!

You yet may spy the fawn at play,
The hare upon the green;

But the sweet face of Lucy Gray

Will

never more be seen.

12

"To-night will be a stormy night

You to the town must go;

And take a lantern, Child, to light 1 Your mother through the snow."

"That, Father! will I gladly do:

"T is scarcely afternoon

The minster-clock has just struck two,
And yonder is the moon!"

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At this the Father raised his hook,

And snapped a fagot-band;

He plied his work; -and Lucy took

The lantern in her hand.

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Not blither is the mountain roe:

With many a wanton stroke

Her feet disperse the powdery snow,
That rises up like smoke.

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The storm came on before its time:

She wandered up and down;

And many a hill did Lucy climb:

But never reached the town.

The wretched parents all that night
Went shouting far and wide;
But there was neither sound nor sight
To serve them for a guide.

At day-break on the hill they stood
That overlooked the moor;

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