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Glittered at evening like a starry sky;
And in this bush our sparrow built her nest,
Of which I fang one song that will not die.

O happy Garden! whose seclusion deep
Hath been so friendly to industrious hours ;
And to soft Numbers, that did gently steep
Our fpirits, carrying with them dreams of flowers,
And wild notes warbled among leafy bowers !
Two burning months let Summer overleap,
And, coming back with her who will be ours,
Into thy bosom we again shall creep.

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BARKING sound the shepherd hears,
A cry as of a dog or fox;
He halts, and searches with his eyes
Among the scattered rocks :
And now at distance can discern
A stirring in a brake of fern;
And instantly a dog is seen,
Glancing from that covert green.

The dog is not of mountain breed ;
Its motions, too, are wild and shy ;
With something, as the shepherd thinks,
Unusual in its cry:

Nor is there any one in sight
All round, in hollow or on height;
Nor shout, nor whistle strikes his ear ;
What is the creature doing here?

It was a cove, a huge recess,
That keeps, till June, December's snow;
A lofty precipice in front,
A silent tarn below!
Far in the bosom of Helvellyn,
Remote from public road or dwelling,
Pathway, or cultivated land;
From trace of human foot or hand.

There sometimes doth a leaping fish
Send through the tarn a lonely cheer ;
The crags repeat the raven's croak,
In symphony auftere;
Thither the rainbow comes—the cloud-
And mists that spread the Aying shroud;
And sunbeams; and the founding blast,
That, if it could, would hurry past,
But that enormous barrier binds it fast.

Not free from boding thoughts, a while
T'he shepherd stood : then makes his way
Towards the dog, o'er rocks and stones,
As quickly as he may;
Nor far had gone, before he found
A human skeleton on the ground;
The appalled discoverer, with a sigh
Looks round, to learn the history.

From those abrupt and perilous rocks
The man had fallen, that place of fear !
At length upon the shepherd's mind
It breaks, and all is clear:
He instantly recalled the name,
And who he was, and whence he came ;
Remembered, too, the very day
On which the traveller passed this way.

But hear a wonder, for whose fake,
This lamentable tale I tell !
A lasting monument of words
This wonder merits well.
The dog, which still was hovering nigh,
Repeating the same timid cry,
This dog had been through three months' space
A dweller in that savage place.

Yes, proof was plain that since the day
On which the traveller thus had died,

The dog had watched about the spot,
Or by his master's side ;
How nourished here through such long time
He knows, who gave that love sublime,
And gave that strength of feeling, great
Above all human estimate.

'TIS SAID THAT SOME HAVE DIED FOR LOVE.

'Tis said that some have died for love:
And here and there a churchyard grave is found
In the cold North’s unhallowed ground, -
Because the wretched man himself had llain,
His love was such a grievous pain.
And there is one whom I five years have known;
He dwells alone
Upon Helvellyn's side :
He loved.—The pretty Barbara died,
And thus he made his moan :
Three years had Barbara in her grave been laid,
When thus his moan he made :-

“Oh, move, thou cottage, from behind that oak! Or let the aged tree uprooted lie,

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