Robert Southey. MY THE SCHOLAR. Y days among the dead are passed; Where'er these casual eyes are cast, With them I take delight in weal, My cheeks have often been bedewed My thoughts are with the dead; with them I live in long-past years; Their virtues love, their faults condemn, Partake their hopes and fears, And from their lessons seek and find My hopes are with the dead; anon Yet leaving here a name, I trust, That will not perish in the dust. THE WELL OF ST. KEYNE. A WELL there is in the west country, And a clearer one never was seen; There is not a wife in the west country But has heard of the well of St. Keyne. An oak and an elm-tree stand beside, And behind does an ash-tree grow; And a willow from the bank above Droops to the water below. A traveller came to the well of St. Keyne; For from cock-crow he had been travelling, He drank of the water so cool and clear, And he sat down upon the bank Under the willow-tree. There came a man from the neighbouring town, At the well to fill his pail; On the well-side he rested it, And he bade the stranger hail. "Now, art thou a bachelor, stranger?" quoth he; "For an if thou hast a wife, The happiest draught thou hast drank this day "Or has thy good woman, if one thou hast, Ever here in Cornwall been? For an if she have, I'll venture my life She has drank of the well of St. Keyne." "I have left a good woman who never was here," The stranger he made reply; "But that my draught should be the better for that, I pray you answer me why." "St. Keyne," quoth the Cornish man, "many a time Drank of this crystal well; And before the angel summoned her, She laid on the water a spell. "If the husband of this gifted well For he shall be master for life. "But if the wife should drink of it first, The stranger stooped to the well of St. Keyne, "You drank of the well I warrant betimes ?" He to the Cornish man said; But the Cornish man smiled as the stranger spoke, "I hastened as soon as the wedding was done, And left my wife in the porch; But i' faith she had been wiser than I, For she took a bottle to church.” JAS JASPAR. ASPAR was poor, and vice and want And Jaspar looked with envious eyes On plunder bent, abroad he went No traveller came, he loitered long, He sate him down beside the stream' He sate beneath a willow-tree, Which cast a trembling shade; The gentle river full in front A little island made Where pleasantly the moonbeam shone Upon the poplar-trees, Whose shadow on the stream below Played slowly to the breeze. He listened and he heard the wind That waved the willow-tree; He heard the waters flow along, He listened for the traveller's tread, He started up, and grasped a stake, And waited for his prey; There came a lonely traveller, And Jaspar crossed his way. But Jaspar's threats and curses failed He would not lightly yield the Which held his little all. purse Awhile he struggled, but he strove Jaspar raised up the murdered man, And plunged him in the flood, And in the running water then He cleansed his hands from blood. The waters closed around the corpse, |