Long time lay Susan lost in thought, She turned, she tossed herself in bed, "Alas! what is become of them? These fears can never be endured, I'll to the wood." The word scarce said, As if by magic cured. Away she posts up hill and down, And to the wood at length is come; She spies her Friends, she shouts a greeting; Oh me! it is a merry meeting As ever was in Christendom. The Owls have hardly sung their last, While our four Travellers homeward wend; For while they all were travelling home, Cried Betty, "Tell us, Johnny, do, Where all this long night you have been, What you have heard, what you have seen, And, Johnny, mind you tell us true Now Johnny all night long had heard The Owls in tuneful concert strive: No doubt too he the Moon had seen For in the moonlight he had been From eight o'clock till five. And thus, to Betty's question, he Made answer, like a Traveller bold, (His very words I give to you,) "The Cocks did crow to-whoo, to-whoo, And the sun did shine so cold." Thus answered Johnny in his glory, And that was all his travel's story. MICHAEL: A PASTORAL POEM. Ir from the public way you turn your steps Who journey thither find themselves alone With a few sheep, with rocks and stones, and kites That overhead are sailing in the sky. It is in truth an utter solitude; Nor should I have made mention of this Dell Or for the summer shade. It was the first |