"My child, in Durham do you dwell?" "And I to Durham, Sir, belong." Again, as if the thought would choke Her very heart, her grief grew strong; And all was for her tattered cloak ! The chaise drove on; our journey's end Up to the tavern door we post; "And let it be of duffel gray, As warm a cloak as man can sell!" 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. They wept, and, turning homeward, cried "In heaven we all shall meet "; - 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; They followed from the snowy bank Yet some maintain 'that to this day That you may see sweet Lucy Gray O'er rough and smooth she trips along, And never looks behind; And sings a solitary song That whistles in the wind. 1799 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. |