And dragg'd to earth both branch and bough, with crash

And merciless ravage; and the shady nook
of hazels, and the green and mossy bower
Deform'd and sullied, patiently gave up
Their quiet being; and unless I now
Confound my present feelings with the past,
Even then, when from the bower I turn'd away,
Exulting, rich beyond the wealth of kings,
I felt a sense of pain when I beheld
The silent trees and the intruding sky.

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 hers shall be the breathing balm,
And hers the silence and the calm
Of mute insensate things.

"The floating clouds their state shall lend

To her, for her the willow bend,
Nor shall she fail to see,

Even in the motions of the storm,

A beauty that shall mould her 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.

THE PET-LAMB.

A PASTORAL.

THE dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink;

I heard a voice, it said, Drink, pretty Creature! drink:

And looking o'er the hedge, before me I espied,

A snow-white mountain Lamb with a Maiden at its side.

No other sheep were near, the Lamb was all alone,

And by a slender cord was tether'd to a stone; With one knee on the grass did the little Maiden kneel,

While to that mountain Lamb she gave its evening meal.

The Lamb while from her hand he thus his supper took

Seem'd to feast with head and ears, and his tail with pleasure shook.

"Drink, pretty Creature! drink," she said in such a tone

That I almost receiv'd her heart into my own.

'Twas little Barbara Lewthwaite, a child of beauty rare,

I watch'd them with delight, they were a lovely pair.

And now with empty Can the Maiden turn'd

away,

But ere ten yards were gone her footsteps: did she stay.

Towards the Lamb she look'd, and from that shady place

I unobserv'd could see the workings of her face:

If Nature to her tongue could measured numbers bring

Thus, thought I, to her Lamb that little Maid would sing.