thus, to keep herself awake, gently interpose :

thanks for your discourse are due;

is true,

more than what you say ow, and I have known it long; I is the bond by which we hold being, whether young or old, e, foolish, weak, or strong.

VII.

isasters, do the best we can,
reach both great and small;
he is oft the wisest man,
is not wise at all.

me, why should I wish to roam ?

spot is my paternal home,

my pleasant heritage;

father many a happy year

ad here his careless blossoms, hero

ined a good old age.

On me such bounty Summer pours,
That I am covered o'er with flowers;
And, when the Frost is in the sky,
My branches are so fresh and gay
That you might look at me and say,
This Plant can never die.

IX.

"The Butterfly, all green and gold,

To me hath often flown,

Here in my blossoms to behold

Wings lovely as his own.

When grass is chill with rain or dew,

Beneath my

shade the mother-ewe

Lies with her infant lamb;

I see

The love they to each other make,

And the sweet joy which they partake,

It is a joy to me.'

X.

"Her voice was blithe, her heart was light;

The Broom might have pursued

Her speech, until the stars of night

Their journey had renewed;

But in the branches of the Oak

Two ravens now began to croak

Their nuptial song, a gladsome air;
And to her own green bower the breeze

That instant brought two stripling bees

To rest or murmur there.

XI.

"One night, my Children! from the north

There came a furious blast;

At break of day I ventured forth,

And near the cliff I passed.

The storm had fallen upon the Oak

And struck him with a mighty stroke,

And whirled, and whirled him far away;
And, in one hospitable cleft,

The little careless Broom was left
To live for many a day."

TO A SKYLARK.

Up with me! up with me into the clouds!
For thy song, Lark, is strong;
Up with me! up with me into the clouds!
Singing, singing,

With clouds and sky about thee ringing,
Lift me, guide me till I find

That spot which seems so to thy mind!

I have walked through wildernesses dreary,

And to-day my heart is weary;

Had I now the wings of a Faery,

Up to thee would I fly.

There is madness about thee, and joy divine

In that song of thine;

Lift me, guide me high and high

To thy banqueting-place in the sky.

Joyous as morning,

Thou art laughing and scorning;

Thou hast a nest for thy love and thy rest,
And, though little troubled with sloth,

Drunken Lark! thou wouldst be loth

To be such a traveller as I.

Happy, happy Liver,

With a soul as strong as a mountain river

Pouring out praise to the Almighty Giver,

Joy and jollity be with us both!

Alas! my journey, rugged and uneven,

Through prickly moors or dusty ways must wind;
But hearing thee, or others of thy kind,
As full of gladness and as free of heaven,

I, with my fate contented, will plod on,

And hope for higher raptures, when life's day is done

I.

EN Daughters had Lord Archibald, hildren of one mother:

could not say in one short day t love they bore each other. rland, of seven lilies, wrought! Sisters that together dwell; ne, bold Knight as ever fought, Father, took of them no thought, oved the wars so well.

mournfully, O, mournfully, solitude of Binnorie!

II.

blows the wind, a western wind,

from the shores of Erin,

ss the wave, a Rover brave

innorie is steering:

t onward to the Scottish strand

gallant ship is borne;

varriors leap upon the land,

hark! the Leader of the band

blown his bugle-horn.

mournfully, O, mournfully, solitude of Binnorie!