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"For, here are woods, and green-hills warm:
There surely must some reason be

Why you would change sweet Liswyn farm
For Kilve by the green sea."

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At this, my boy hung down his head,
He blushed with shame, nor made reply;
And five times to the child I said,
"Why, Edward, tell me why?"

His head he raised-there was in sight,
It caught his eye, he saw it plain-
Upon the house-top, glittering bright,
A broad and gilded vane.

Then did the boy his tongue unlock;
And thus to me he made reply:
"At Kilve there was no weather-cock,
And that's the reason why."

O dearest, dearest boy! my heart
For better lore would seldom yearn,
Could I but teach the hundredth part
Of what from thee I learn.

XL

RURAL ARCHITECTURE.

THERE'S George Fisher, Charles Fleming, and Reginald Shore, Three rosy-cheeked school-boys, the highest not more

Than the height of a counsellor's bag;

To the top of GREAT How did it please them to climb;
And there they built up, without mortar or lime,

A man on the peak of the crag.

They built him of stones gathered up as they lay;
They built him and christened him all in one day,
An urchin both vigorous and hale;

And so without scruple they called him Ralph Jones.
Now Ralph is renowned for the length of his bones;
The Magog of Legberthwaite dale.

Just half a week after, the wind sallied forth,
And, in anger or merriment, out of the north

Coming on with a terrible pother,

From the peak of the crag blew the giant away.

And what did these school-boys ?-The very next day

They went and they built up another.

Great How is a single and conspicuous hill, which rises towards the foot of Thirl-mere, on the western side of the beautiful dale of Legberthwaite, along the high road between Keswick and Amblesde.

XII.

THE PET-LAMB.

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 were near, the lamb was all alone,
And by a slender cord was tethered to a stone;
With one knee on the grass did the little maiden kneel,
While to that mountain lamb she gave its evening meal.

The lamb while from her hand he thus his supper took

Seemed to feast with head and ears; and his tail with pleasure shook.

66 Drink, pretty creature, drink," she said in such a tone
That I almost received her heart into my own.

'Twas little Barbara Lewthwaite, a child of beauty rare!
I watched them with delight, they were a lovely pair.
Now with her empty can the maiden turned away;
But ere ten yards were gone her footsteps did she stay.

Towards the lamb she looked; and from that shady place
I unobserved could see the workings of her face:

If Nature to her tongue could measured numbers bring,
Thus, thought I, to her lamb that little maid might sing—

"What ails thee, young one? What? Why pull so at thy cordi
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 wouldst seek?
Thy limbs are they not strong?
This grass is tender grass; these
And that green corn all day is rustling in thy ears!

What is wanting to thy heart?
And beautiful thou art:
flowers they have no peers;

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 fear-
The rain and storm are things which scarcely can come here.

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
That 'tis thy mother's heart which is working so in thee?
Things that I know not of belike to thee are dear,

And dreams of things which thou canst neither see nor hear.

Alas, the mountain tops that look so green and fair!
I've heard of fearful winds and darkness that come there;
The little brooks that seem all pastime and all play,
When they are angry, roar like lions for their prey.

Here thou need'st not dreal 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!"

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-As homeward through the lane I went with lazy feet,
This song to myself did I oftentimes repeat;

And it seemed, as I retraced the ballad line by line,
That but half of it was hers, and one half of it was mine.

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.'

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XIII

THE IDLE SHEPHERD BOYS; OR, DUNGEON-GHYLL FORCE.*

A PASTORAL.

I.

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.

II.

Beneath a rock, upon the grass,
Two boys are sitting in the sun;
It seems they have no work to do
Or that their work 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.

III.

Along the river's stony marge
The sand-lark chants a joyous song;
The thrush is busy in the wood,
And carols loud and strong.
A thousand lambs are on the rocks,
All newly born! both earth and sky
Keep jubilee; and more than all,

* Ghyll in the dialect of Cumberland and Westmoreland is a short, and for the most part, a steep narrow valley, with a stream running through Force is the word universally employed in these dialects for water

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Those boys with their green coronal;
They never hear the cry,

That plaintive cry! which up the hill
Comes from the depths of Dungeon-Ghyll.

IV.

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 keep you working half a year.

V.

"Now cross where I shall cross-come on,

And follow me where I shall lead "-
The other took him at his word,

But did not like the deed.

It was a spot, which you may see

If ever you to Langdale go:

Into a chasm a mighty block

Hath fallen, and made a bridge of rock:

The gulf is deep below;

And in a basin black and small

Receives a lofty waterfall.

VI.

With staff in hand across the cleft

The challenger began his march;

And now, all eyes and feet, hath gained

The middle of the arch.

When list! he hears a piteous moan-
Again!-his heart within him dies-
His pulse is stopped, his breath is lost,
He totters, pale as any ghost,
And, looking down, he spies
A lamb, that in the pool is pent
Within that black and frightful rent.

VII.

The lamb had slipped into the stream,
And safe without a bruise or wound
The cataract had borne him down

Into the gulf profound.

His dam had seen him when he fell,

She saw him down the torrent borne;

And, while with all a mother's love
She from the lofty rocks above
Sent forth a cry forlorn,

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