I faid not this, because he loves To whom a foul deed he had done, For this poor crawling helplefs wretch And could not stoop-no help was nigh.. Inch-thick the duft lay on the ground, It chanc'd that Andrew paff'd that way He ftopp'd and took the penny up: And hence I faid, that Andrew's boys The PET-LAMB, A PASTORAL The dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink; I heard a voice, it faid, Drink, pretty creature, drink! And, looking o'er the hedge, before me I efpied, A fnow-white mountain lamb with a maiden at its fide. No other fheep were near, the lamb was all alone, And by a flender cord was tether'd to a stone; With one knee on the grafs did the little maiden kneel, While to that mountain lamb fhe gaye its evening meal. The lamb while from her hand he thus his fupper took Seem'd to feast with head and ears, and his tail with pleasure shook. "Drink, pretty creature, drink," she said in fuch a tone That I almost receiv'd her heart into my own. 'Twas little Barbara Lewthwaite, a child of beauty rare, I watch'dthem with delight, they were a lovely pair. And now with empty can the maiden turn'd away, But ere ten yards were gone her footsteps did fhe ftay. Towards the lamb fhe look'd, and from that fhady place I unobferv'd could fee the workings of her face: If nature to her tongue could meafur'd numbersbring Thus, thought I, to her lamb that little maid would fing. "What ails thee, young one? what? why pull fo at thy cord? Is it not well with thee? well both for bed and board? Thy plot of grass is soft, and green as grafs can be, Reft, little young one, reft; what is't thataileth thee? What is it thou would'ft feek? what's wanting to thy heart? Thy limbs are they not strong? and beautiful thou art: This grafs is tender grafs, these flowers they have. no peers, And that green corn all day is ruftling in thy ears. If the fun is fhining hot, do but stretch thy woollen chain, This beech is ftanding by, its covert thou can't gain, C For rain and mountain storms the likethou need'st not fear, The rain and storm are things which fcarcely can come here. Reft, little young one, reft; thou haft forgot the day When my father found thee first in places far away: Many flocks are on the hills, but thou wert own'd by none, And thy mother from thy fide for evermore was gone. He took thee in his arms, and in pity brought thee home, A bleffed day for thee! then whither would't thou roam ! A faithful nursethou haft, the dam that did theeyean Upon the mountain tops no kinder could havebeen. Thou know'ft that twice a day I've 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 |