Till God released her of her pain;
And then she went away.

"So in the churchyard she was laid;
And all that summer dry,

Together round her grave we played,
My brother John and I.

"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?"
The little maiden did reply,

"O master! we are seven.'

"But they are dead: those two are dead! Their spirits are in heaven!"

"T was throwing words away for still The little maid would have her will, And said, "Nay, we are seven!"

THE PET LAMB.

HE dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink;

I heard a voice: it said, "Drink, pretty creature, drink!”

And, looking o'er the hedge, before me I

espied

A snow-white mountain lamb, with a maiden at its side.

No other sheep were near, the lamb was all

alone,

And by a slender cord was tethered to a

stone;

With one knee on the grass did the little maiden kneel,

While to that mountain lamb she gave its evening meal.

The lamb, while from her hand he thus his supper took,

Seemed to feast with head and ears; and his tail with pleasure shook.

"Drink, pretty creature, drink," she said in such a tone,

That I almost received her heart into my own.

"T was little Barbara Lewthwaite, a child of beauty rare!

I watched them with delight; they were a lovely pair.

Now with her empty can the maiden turned

away;

But ere ten yards were gone, her footsteps did she stay.

Towards the lamb she looked; and from that shady place

I, unobserved, could see the workings of her

face;

If Nature to her tongue could measured numbers bring,

Thus, thought I, to her lamb that little maid might sing;

"What ails thee, young one? What? Why pull so at thy cord ?

Is it not well with thee? Well both for bed and board?

Thy plot of grass is soft, and green as grass can be ;

Rest, little young one, rest; what is 't that aileth thee?

"What is it thou wouldst seek? What is wanting to thy heart?

Thy limbs are they not strong? And beautiful thou art :

This grass is tender grass; these flowers they have no peers;

And that green corn, all day, is rustling in thy ears!

"If the sun be shining hot, do but stretch thy woollen chain,

This beech is standing by, its covert thou canst gain;

For rain and mountain storms, the like thou need'st not fear;

The rain and storm are things which scarcely can come here.

"Rest, little young one, rest; thou hast forgot the day

When my father found thee first in places

far away:

Many flocks were on the hills, but thou wert owned by none;

And thy mother from thy side forevermore was gone.

"He took thee in his arms, and in pity brought thee home:

A blessed day for thee! then whither wouldst thou roam?

A faithful nurse thou hast; the dam that did

thee yean

Upon the mountain-tops no kinder could

have been.

"Thou know'st that twice a day I have 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,

I bring thee draughts of milk, warm milk it is, and new.