If such there breathe, go, mark him well; O Caledonia! stern and wild, Land of brown heath and shaggy wood, That knits me to thy rugged strand! Seems as, to me, of all bereft, Sole friends thy woods and streams were left; And thus I love them better still, Even in extremity of ill. By Yarrow's stream still let me stray, THE ORPHAN BOY. STAY, Lady, stay, for mercy's sake, Yet I was once a mother's pride, Poor foolish child! how pleased was I, And see the lighted windows flame! The people's shouts were long and loud; "What is an Orphan Boy ?" I cried, As in her face I looked and smiled; My mother through her tears replied, "You'll know too soon, ill fated child!" And now they've toll'd my mother's knell, And I'm no more a parent's joy : O lady! I have known too well What 'tis to be an Orphan Boy. THE HARE AND THE TORTOISE. IN days of yore, when time was young, Would oft deride the drudging crowd: He'd boast his flight 'twere vain to follow, A Tortoise heard his vain oration, And vented thus his indignation: "O puss! it bodes thee dire disgrace, "When I defy thee to the race. Come, 'tis a match; nay, no denial; "I'll lay my shell upon the trial." 'Twas done, and done-all fair-a bet— Judges prepar'd-and distance set. The scampering Hare outstript the wind, The creeping Tortoise lagg'd behind, And scarce had pass'd a single pole, When puss had almost reach'd the goal. "Friend Tortoise," quoth the jeering Hare, "Your burden's more than you can bear; "To help your speed, it were as well "That I should ease you of your shell: Still drawl'd along, as who should say, Puss, though I own thy quicker parts, "Things are not always done by starts; "You may deride my awkward pace, "But slow and steady wins the race." WE ARE SEVEN. -A simple Child, That lightly draws his breath, I met a little cottage Girl : She had a rustic, woodland air, Her eyes were fair, and very fair; "Sisters and brothers, little Maid, How many may you be?" "How many? Seven in all," she said, And wondering looked at me. "And where are they? I pray you tell." She answered, "Seven are we; And two are gone to sea. Two of us in the church-yard lie, I And, in the church-yard cottage, "You say that two at Conway dwell, Yet ye are seven !—I pray you tell, Then did the little Maid reply, "Their graves are green, they may be seen," The little Maid replied, "Twelve steps or more from my mother's door, And they are side by side. My stockings there I often knit, And there upon the ground I sit- And often after sun-set, Sir, The first that died was little Jane ; Till God released her of her pain; Aud then she went away. So in the church-yard she was laid; Together round her grave we played, And when the ground was white with snow, And I could run and slide, My brother John was forced to go, And he lies by her side." "How many are you then," said I, "If they two are in heaven ?" |