Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

The lamb, while from her hand he thus his

supper took,

Seem'd to feast with head and ears, and his tail with pleasure shook.

"Drink, pretty creature, drink!" she said in such a tone That I almost receiv'd her heart into my own.

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

Right towards the lamb she look'd; and, from a shady place,

I unobserv'd could see the workings of her face:

If Nature to her tongue could measur'd numbers bring, Thus, thought I, to her lamb that little maid might sing:

"What ails thee, young one? what? why pull so at thy cord ?

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? what is wanting to thy

heart?

Thy limbs, are they not strong? and beautiful thou art: This grass is tendergrass, these flowers they have no peers, And that green corn all day is rustling in thy ears.

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 that 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 own'd 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; thy 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.
Here thou needest not dread 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."

[graphic]
[graphic][subsumed][subsumed]
[graphic][subsumed][subsumed]
« AnteriorContinuar »