HOPE AND LOVE. Sometimes they turn'd aside to bless On Beauty's quiet slumbers. "Fly on," said Wisdom, with cold sneers; "I teach my friends to doubt you:" "Come back," said Age, with bitter tears, "My heart is cold without you." When Poverty beset their path, And showing taste for bread and milk, They met stern Danger in their way, Upon a ruin seated; Before him kings had quaked that day, But he was robed in such a cloud, As Love and Hope came near him, That though he thunder'd long and loud, They did not see or hear him. A gray-beard join'd them, Time by name; And Love was nearly crazy, To find that he was very lame, And also very lazy : Hope, as he listen'd to her tale, Tied wings upon his jacket; And then they far outran the mail, HOPE AND LOVE. And so, when they had safely pass'd "I leave you here," quoth Father Time, And Love kneel'd down to spell the rhyme But Hope look'd onward, calmly brave, WITHIN A MILE OF EDINBRO', Jocky was a wag that never would wed, And merrily turn'd up the grass. Bonnie Jocky, blythe and free, Won her heart right merrily: Yet still she blush'd, and frowning cried, "No, no, it will not do; I cannot, cannot, wonnot, wonnot, mannot buckle to." But when he vow'd he would make her his bride, Though his flocks and herds were not few, She gave him her hand, and a kiss beside, And vow'd she'd for ever be true. Bonnie Jocky, blythe and free, Won her heart right merrily: At church she no more frowning said, "No, no, it will not do; I cannot, cannot, wonnot, wonnot, mannot buckle to." ALLEN-A-DALE has no faggot for burning, And tell me the craft of bold Allen-a-Dale. tale! The baron of Ravensworth prances in pride, Allen-a-Dale was ne'er belted a knight, Though his spur be as sharp, and his blade be as bright; Allen-a-Dale is no baron or lord, Yet twenty tall yeomen will draw at his word; And the best of our nobles his bonnet will vail, Who at Rere-cross on Stanmore meets Allen-a-Dale. Allen-a-Dale to his wooing is come; The mother, she ask'd of his household and home: "Though the castle of Richmond stands fair on the hill, My hall," quoth bold Allen, " shows gallanter still; 'Tis the blue vault of heav'n, with its crescent so pale, And with all its bright spangles!" said Allen-a-Dale. |