And oftentimes, when all are fast asleep,

This water doth send forth a dolorous groan.

Some say that here a murder has been done,

And blood cries out for blood; but, for my part, I've guessed, when I've been sitting in the sun, That it was all for that unhappy hart.

What thoughts must through the creature's brain have past!

Even from the topmost stone upon the steep
Are but three bounds—and look, sir, at the last
Oh, master! it has been a cruel leap.

For thirteen hours he ran a desperate race;
And in my simple mind we cannot tell

What cause the hart might have to love this place,
And come and make his death-bed near the well.

Here on the grass perhaps asleep he sank,
Lulled by the fountain in the summer-tide;

This water was perhaps the first he drank

When he had wandered from his mother's side.

In April here, beneath the flow'ring thorn,

He heard the birds their morning carols sing; And he perhaps, for aught we know, was born Not half a furlong from that self-same spring. Now, here is neither grass nor pleasant shade, The sun on drearier valley never shone;

So will it be, as I have often said,

Till stones, and trees, and fountain all are gone." "Grey-headed shepherd, thou hast spoken well; Small difference lies betwixt thy creed and mine; This beast not unobserved by Nature fell,

His death was mourned by sympathy divine.

The Being that is in the clouds and air,

That is in the green leaves among the groves, Maintains a deep and reverential care

For the unoffending creatures whom He loves. This pleasure-house is dust;-behind, before,

This is no common waste, no common gloom; But Nature, in due course of time, once more Shall here put on her beauty and her bloom.

She leaves these objects to a slow decay,

That what we are and have been may be known;

But at the coming of the milder day,

These monuments shall all be overgrown.

One lesson, shepherd, let us two divide,

Taught both by what she shews and what conceals,

Never to blend our pleasure or our pride

With sorrow to the meanest thing that feels."

Barrow Unvisited.

FROM Stirling Castle we had seen
The mazy Forth unravelled;

Had trod the banks of Clyde and Tay,
And with the Tweed had travelled;
And when we came to Clovenford,
Then said my "winsome Marrow,"
"Whate'er betide, we'll turn aside,
And see the braes of Yarrow."

"Let Yarrow folk, frae Selkirk town,
Who have been buying, selling,
Go back to Yarrow-'tis their own-
Each maiden to her dwelling;
On Yarrow's banks let herons feed,
Hares couch, and rabbits burrow;
But we will downward with the Tweed,
Nor turn aside to Yarrow.

There's Galla Water, Leader Haughs,

Both lying right before us;

And Dryburgh, where with chiming Tweed The lintwhites sing in chorus;

There's pleasant Tiviotdale,-a land

Made blithe with plough and