Their rusty hats they trim:

And thus, as happy as the day,

Those Shepherds wear the time away.

Along the river's stony marge
The sand-lark chants a joyous song;
The thrush is busy in the wood,
And carols loud and strong.

A thousand lambs are on the rocks,
All newly born! both earth and sky
Keep jubilee, and more than all,
Those boys with their green coronal;
They never hear the cry,

That plaintive cry! which up the hill
Comes from the depth of Dungeon-Ghyll.

Said Walter, leaping from the ground,
"Down to the stump of yon old yew
We'll for our whistles run a race."
-Away the shepherds flew ;

They leapt, they ran,—and when they came

Right opposite to Dungeon-Ghyll,

Seeing that he should lose the prize,

66

Stop!" to his comrade Walter cries.

James stopped with no good will:
Said Walter then, exulting, "Here
You'll find a task for half a year.

"Cross, if you dare, where I shall cross, Come on, and tread where I shall tread."

The other took him at his word,
And followed as he led.

It was a spot which you may see

If ever you to Langdale go;

Into the chasm a mighty block

Hath fallen, and made a bridge of rock :

The gulf is deep below;

And, in a basin black and small,

Receives a lofty waterfall.

With staff in hand across the cleft
The challenger pursued his march;
And now, all eyes and feet, hath gained
The middle of the arch.

When list! he hears a piteous moan.
Again! his heart within him dies;

His pulse is stopped, his breath is lost, He totters, pallid as a ghost,

And, looking down, espies

A lamb, that in the pool is pent
Within that black and frightful rent.

The lamb had slipped into the stream,
And safe without a bruise or wound
The cataract had borne him down
Into the gulf profound.

His dam had seen him when he fell,
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 in 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 hither strayed;

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

He drew it from the troubled 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,

Whose life and limbs the flood had spared;

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.

XII.

ANECDOTE FOR FATHERS.

"Retine vim istam, falsa enim dicam, si coges.".

EUSEBIUS.

I HAVE a boy of five years old;
His face is fair and fresh to see;
His limbs are cast in beauty's mould,
And dearly he loves me.

One morn we strolled on our dry walk,
Our quiet home all full in view,
And held such intermitted talk
As we are wont to do.

My thoughts on former pleasures ran;
I thought of Kilve's delightful shore,
Our pleasant home when spring began,
A long, long year before.

A day it was when I could bear
Some fond regrets to entertain;
With so much happiness to spare,
I could not feel a pain.

The green earth echoed to the feet

Of lambs that bounded through the glade,
From shade to sunshine, and as fleet

From sunshine back to shade.

Birds warbled round me, and each trace
Of inward sadness had its charm ;

Kilve, thought I, was a favored place,
And so is Liswyn farm.

My boy beside me tripped, so slim
And graceful in his rustic dress!
And, as we talked, I questioned him,
In very idleness.

"Now tell me, had you rather be," I said, and took him by the arm,

“On Kilve's smooth shore, by the green sea, Or here at Liswyn farm?"

In careless mood he looked at me,
While still I held him by the arm,
And said, “At Kilve I'd rather be
Than here at Liswyn farm."

"Now, little Edward, say why so:
My little Edward, tell me why."
"I cannot tell, I do not know."
"Why, this is strange," said I;

"For here are woods, hills smooth and warm:

There surely must some reason be

Why you would change sweet Liswyn farm For Kilve by the green sea."