'Tis past, that melancholy dream!
Nor will I quit thy shore
A second time; for still I seem

To love thee more and more.

Among thy mountains did I feel
The joy of my desire;

And she I cherish'd turn'd her wheel
Beside an English fire.

Thy mornings show'd, thy nights concear
The bowers where Lucy play'd;

And thine too is the last green field
That Lucy's eyes survey'd.

W. Wordsworth

CCXXII

THE EDUCATION OF NATURE

Three years she grew in sun and shower;
Then Nature said, 'A lovelier flower

On earth was never sown:

This Child I to myself will take;

She shall be mine, and I will make

A lady of my own.

'Myself will to my darling be

Both law and impulse: and with me

The girl, in rock and plain,

In earth and heaven, in glade and bower,

Shall feel an overseeing power

To kindle or restrain.

'She shall be sportive as the fawn

That wild with glee across the lawn

Or up the mountain springs;

And her's shall be the breathing balm,
And her's the silence and the calm
Of mute insensate things.

P

'The floating clouds their state shall lend To her; for her the willow bend;

Nor shall she fail to see

Ev'n in the motions of the storm

Grace that shall mould the maiden's form

By silent sympathy.

'The stars of midnight shall be dear

To her; and she shall lean her ear

In many a secret place

Where rivulets dance their wayward round,

And beauty born of murmuring sound
Shall pass into her face.

'And vital feelings of delight

Shall rear her form to stately height,

Her virgin bosom swell;

Such thoughts to Lucy I will give

While she and I together live

Here in this happy dell.'

Thus Nature spake-The work was done—

How soon my Lucy's race was run !

She died, and left to me

This heath, this calm and quiet scene;

The memory of what has been,

And never more will be.

W. Wordsworth

CCXXIII

A slumber did my spirit seal;

I had no human fears:

She seem'd a thing that could not feel
The touch of earthly years.

No motion has she now, no force;
She neither hears nor sees;
Roll'd round in earth's diurnal course
With rocks, and stones, and trees.

W. Wordsworth

CCXXIV

A LOST LOVE

I meet thy pensive, moonlight face;
Thy thrilling voice I hear;

And former hours and scenes retrace,
Too fleeting, and too dear!

Then sighs and tears flow fast and free,
Though none is nigh to share ;

And life has nought beside for me
So sweet as this despair.

There are crush'd hearts that will not break;

And mine, methinks, is one;

Or thus I should not weep and wake,

And thou to slumber gone.

I little thought it thus could be

In days more sad and fair

That earth could have a place for me,
And thou no longer there.

Yet death cannot our hearts divide,
Or make thee less my own:
'Twere sweeter sleeping at thy side
Than watching here alone.

Yet never, never can we part,

While Memory holds her reign.

Thine, thine is still this wither'd heart,

Till we shall meet again.

H. F. Lyte

CCXXV

LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER

A Chieftain to the Highlands bound
Cries Boatman, do not tarry!

And I'll give thee a silver pound
To row us o'er the ferry !'

Now who be ye, would cross Lochgyle This dark and stormy water?'

'O I'm the chief of Ulva's isle,
And this, Lord Ullin's daughter

'And fast before her father's men
Three days we've fled together,
For should he find us in the glen,
My blood would stain the heather.

'His horsemen hard behind us ride-
Should they our steps discover,
Then who will cheer my bonny bride,
When they have slain her lover?'

Out spoke the hardy Highland wight,
'I'll go, my chief, I'm ready :
It is not for your silver bright,
But for your winsome lady :-

'And by my word! the bonny bird
In danger shall not tarry;

So though the waves are raging white
I'll row you o'er the ferry.'

By this the storm grew loud apace,
The water-wraith was shrieking;
And in the scowl of Heaven each face
Grew dark as they were speaking.

But still as wilder blew the wind,
And as the night grew drearer,
Adown the glen rode arméd men,
Their trampling sounded nearer.

O haste thee, haste!' the lady cries,
'Though tempests round us gather;
I'll meet the raging of the skies,
But not an angry father.'

The boat has left a stormy land,

A stormy sea before her,

When, oh! too strong for human hand The tempest gather'd o'er her.

And still they row'd amidst the roar
Of waters fast prevailing:

Lord Ullin reach'd that fatal shore,

His wrath was changed to wailing.

For, sore dismay'd, through storm and shade
His child he did discover ;-

One lovely hand she stretch'd for aid,
And one was round her lover.

'Come back! come back!' he cried in grief 'Across this stormy water:

And I'll forgive your Highland chief,
My daughter!-Oh, my daughter!'

'Twas vain the loud waves lash'd the shore Return or aid preventing :

The waters wild went o'er his child,

And he was left lamenting. Campbell

CCXXVI

LUCY GRAY

Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray:
And when I cross'd the wild,
I chanced to see at break of day
The solitary child.

No mate, no comrade Lucy knew ;
She dwelt on a wide moor,
The sweetest thing that ever grew
Beside a human door!

You yet may spy the fawn at play,
The hare upon the green;

But the sweet face of Lucy Gray
Will never more be seen.

'To-night will be a stormy night—
You to the town must go;
And take a lantern, Child, to light
Your mother through the snow.'