She saw him down the torrent borne;

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.

VIII.

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.

IX.

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.

POOR SUSAN

At the corner of Wood-street, when day-light appears, There's a Thrush that sings loud, it has sung for three

years:

Poor Susan has passed by the spot, and has heard
In the silence of morning the song of the Bird.

'Tis a note of enchantment; what ails her? She sees
A mountain ascending, a vision of trees;
Bright volumes of vapour through Lothbury glide,
And a river flows on through the vale of Cheapside.

Green pastures she views in the midst of the dale,
Down which she so often has tripped with her pail ;
And a single small cottage, a nest like a dove's,
The one only Dwelling on earth that she loves.

She looks, and her Heart is in heaven: but they fade,
The mist and the river, the hill and the shade;
The stream will not flow, and the hill will not rise,
And the colours have all passed away from her eyes.

INSCRIPTION

For the Spot where the HERMITAGE stood on St. Herbert's Island, Derwent-Water.

If Thou in the dear love of some one Friend

Hast been so happy, that thou know'st what

thoughts

Will, sometimes, in the happiness of love

Make the heart sick, then wilt thou reverence
-St. Herbert hither came,

This quiet spot.

And here, for many seasons, from the world
Removed, and the affections of the world,
He dwelt in solitude.-But he had left

A Fellow-labourer, whom the good Man loved
As his own soul. And, when within his cave
Alone he knelt before the crucifix

While o'er the Lake the cataract of Lodore