"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 ; "What is it thou wouldst seek? heart? What is wanting to thy 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, "Rest, little young one, rest; thou hast forgot the day "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 knowest 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. "Thy limbs will shortly be twice as stout as they are now, Then I'll yoke thee to my cart like a pony in the plough; My playmate thou shalt be; and when the wind is cold Our hearth shall be thy bed, our house shall be thy fold. "It will not, will not rest!-poor creature, can it be "Alas, the mountain-tops that look so green and fair! I've heard of fearful winds and darkness that come there; The little brooks that seem all pastime and all play, When they are angry, roar like lions for their prey. "Here thou need'st not dread the raven in the sky; Night and day thou art safe,- —our cottage is hard by. Why bleat so after me? Why pull so at thy chain? Sleep-and at break of day I will come to thee again !" -As homeward through the lane I went with lazy feet, And it seemed, as I retraced the ballad line by line, Again, and once again did I repeat the song ; "Nay," said I, "more than half to the damsel must belong, For she look'd with such a look, and she spake with such a tone, That I almost received her heart into my own." THE IDLE SHEPHERD BOYS; OR, DUNGEON GHYLL FORCE. A Pastoral. THE valley rings with mirth and joy ; The magpie chatters with delight; Beneath a rock, upon the grass, On pipes of sycamore they play And thus, as happy as the day, Along the river's stony marge The sand-lark chants a joyous song; The thrush is busy in the wood, A thousand lambs are on the rocks, That plaintive cry! which up the hill Said Walter, leaping from the ground, They leapt they ran-and when they came Seeing that he should lose the prize, "Stop!" to his comrade Walter cries James stopp'd with no good will: Said Walter then, "Your task is here, "Twill keep you working half a year. "Now cross where I shall cross-come on, And follow me where I shall lead." The other took him at his word; But did not like the deed. It was a spot, which you may see If ever you to Langdale go: Into a chasm a mighty block Hath fallen, and made a bridge of rock : The gulf is deep below; And in a basin black and small With staff in hand across the cleft When list! he hears a piteous moan― The lamb had slipp'd into the stream, 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 to that plaintive sound. When he had learnt what thing it was |