Puslapio vaizdai
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The wretched parents all that night
Went fhouting far and wide;
But there was neither found nor fight
To ferve them for a guide.

At day-break on a hill they stood
That overlook'd the moor;

And thence they faw the bridge of wood
A furlong from their door.

And now they homeward turn'd, and cry'd, "In Heaven we all fhall meet !

When in the fnow the mother spy'd
The print of Lucy's feet.

Then downward from the steep hill's edge

They track'd the footmarks fmall

;

And through the broken hawthorn-hedge, And by the long stone-wall;

And then an open field they crofs'd,

The marks were still the fame; They track'd them on, nor ever lost, And to the bridge they came.

We faw a woman fitting down
Upon a stone to rest,

She had a baby at her back
And another at her breast;

I afk'd her why fhe loiter'd there
When the wind it was fo chill:

She turn'd her head and bade the child
That scream'd behind, be still.

She told us that her husband ferved
A foldier, far away,

And therefore to her parifh fhe
Was begging back her way.

We met a girl; her drefs was loofe
And funken was her eye,

Who with the wanton's hollow voice
Addrefs'd the paffers by;

I afk'd her what there was in guilt
That could her heart allure

To fhame. difeafe, and late remorfe?

She answer'd, fhe was poor.

I turn'd me to the rich man then,
For filently stood he,

You afk'd me why the Poor complain,
And these have anfwer'd thee.

LUCY GRAY.

OFT I had heard of Lucy Gray,
And when I crofs'd the wild,
I chanc'd to fee at break of day
The folitary child.

No mate, no comrade Lucy knew;
She dwelt on a wild moor,
The sweetest thing that ever grew
Befide a human door!

You yet may spy the fawn at play,
The hare upon the green;
But the fweet 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 thro' the fnow."

"That, Father! will I gladly do; 'Tis fcarcely afternoon

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

At this the father rais'd his hook
And fnapp'd a faggot-band;
He plied his work, and Lucy took
The lantern in her hand.

Not blither is the mountain roe,
With many a wanton ftroke
Her feet disperse the powd'ry fnow
That rifes up like fmoke.

The ftorm came on before its time,
She wander'd up and down,
And many a hill did Lucy climb
But never reach'd the town.

The wretched parents all that night
Went fhouting far and wide

But there was neither found nor fight
To ferve them for a guide.

At day-break on a hill they stood
That overlook'd the moor;

And thence they faw the bridge of wood
A furlong from their door.

And now they homeward turn'd, and cry'd, "In Heaven we all fhall meet!

When in the fnow the mother spy'd
The print of Lucy's feet.

Then downward from the steep hill's edge
They track'd the footmarks fmall;
And through the broken hawthorn-hedge,
And by the long stone-wall;

And then an open field they crofs'd,

The marks were ftill the fame;

They track'd them on, nor ever loft,
And to the bridge they came.

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