IX. LUCY GRAY; OR, SOLITUDE. OFT I had heard of Lucy Gray: No mate, no comrade Lucy knew ; The sweetest thing that ever grew You yet may spy the fawn at play, But the sweet face of Lucy Gray "To-night will be a stormy night,You to the town must go ; And take a lantern, Child, to light "That, Father! will I gladly do: 'Tis scarcely afternoon, The minster-clock has just struck two, And yonder is the moon!" At this the father raised his hook, He plied his work ; and Lucy took The lantern in her hand. Not blither is the mountain roe: Her feet disperse the powdery snow, That rises up like smoke. The storm came on before its time: And many a hill did Lucy climb: 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; And thence they saw the bridge of wood, A furlong from their door. When in the snow the mother spied Then downwards from the steep hill's edge And then an open field they crossed: They tracked them on, nor ever lost; snowy bank They followed from the And further there were none ! Yet some maintain that to this day She is a living child; That you may see sweet Lucy Gray Upon the lonesome wild. O'er rough and smooth she trips along, And never looks behind; And sings a solitary song That whistles in the wind, - A simple Child, That lightly draws its breath, What should it know of death? I met a little cottage Girl: She was eight years old, she said; That clustered round her head. She had a rustic, woodland air, And she was wildly clad: Her eyes were fair, and very fair ; Her beauty made me glad. "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 churchyard lie, "You say that two at Conway dwell, Yet ye are seven! I pray you tell, Then did the little Maid reply, "You run about, my little Maid, Then ye are only five." "Their graves are green, they may be seen," The little Maid replied, Twelve steps or more from my And they are side by side. 66 mother's door, My stockings there I often knit, And there upon the ground I sit, |