And, while with all a mother's love

She from the lofty rocks above

Sent forth a cry forlorn,

The lamb, still swimming round and round,

Made answer to that plaintive sound.

When he had learnt what thing it was,

That sent this rueful cry; I ween,
The boy recovered heart, and told
The sight which he had seen.
Both gladly now deferred their task;
Nor was there wanting other aid—
A Poet, one who loves the brooks
Far better than the sages' books,
By chance had thither strayed;

And there the helpless lamb he found
By those huge rocks encompassed round.

He drew it gently from the pool,

And brought it forth into the light:

The shepherds met him with his charge,

An unexpected sight!

Into their arms the lamb they took,

Said they, "He's neither maimed nor scarred."

Then up the steep ascent they hied,

And placed him at his mother's side;
And gently did the Bard

Those idle shepherd-boys upbraid,

And bade them better mind their trade.

The sweetest thing that ever grew
Beside a human door!

You yet may spy the fawn at play,
The hare upon the green;
But the sweet face of Lucy Gray
Will never more be seen.

"To-night will be a stormy night. You to the town must go;

And take a lantern, child, to light

Your mother through the snow."

“That, father, will I gladly do:
'Tis scarcely afternoon —

The minster-clock has just struck two,
And yonder is the moon."