TH

CXXII

THE FAITHFUL BIRD

HE greenhouse is my summer seat;
My shrubs, displaced from that retreat,
Enjoy'd the open air;

Two goldfinches, whose sprightly song
Had been their mutual solace long,
Lived happy prisoners there.

They sang as blithe as finches sing
That flutter loose on golden wing,
And frolic where they list;
Strangers to liberty, 't is true,
But that delight they never knew,
And therefore never miss'd.

But nature works in every breast,
With force not easily suppress'd;
And Dick felt some desires,
That, after many an effort vain,
Instructed him at length to gain
A pass between the wires.

The open windows seem'd to invite
The freeman to a farewell flight;
But Tom was still confin'd;

And Dick, although his way was clear,
Was much too generous and sincere
To leave his friend behind.

So, settling on his cage, by play,
And chirp, and kiss, he seem'd to say,
You must not live alone -

Nor would he quit that chosen stand,
Till I, with slow and cautious hand,
Return'd him to his own.

W. Cowper

A

CXXIII

LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER

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 armed 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 the stormy land,
A stormy sea before her,

When, oh! too strong for human hand
The tempest gathered 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!'

'T was 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.

T. Campbell

CXXIV

THE SEA

sea! to sea! the calm is o'er, The wanton water leaps in sport, And rattles down the pebbly shore,

The dolphin wheels, the sea-cows snort,
And unseen mermaid's pearly song
Comes bubbling up, the weeds among.
Fling broad the sail, dip deep the oar:
To sea! to sea! the calm is o'er.

To sea! to sea! our white winged bark
Shall billowing cleave its watery way,
And with its shadow, fleet and dark,
Break the caved Tritons' azure day,
Like mountain eagle soaring light
O'er antelopes on Alpine height.

The anchor heaves! The ship swings free!
Our sails swell full! To sea! to sea!

T. L. Beddoes

A

CXXV

FIDELITY

BARKING sound the shepherd hears,

A cry as of a dog or fox ;

He halts, and searches with his eye
Among the scattered rocks:

And now at distance can discern
A stirring in a brake of fern ;
And instantly a dog is seen,
Glancing through that covert green.

The dog is not of mountain breed ;
Its motions, too, are wild and shy;

With something, as the shepherd thinks,
Unusual in its cry:

Nor is there any one in sight

All round, in hollow or on height;

Nor shout, nor whistle strikes his ear:

What is the creature doing here?

It was a cove, a huge recess,

That keeps, till June, December's snow;
A lofty precipice in front,

A silent tarn below;

Far in the bosom of Helvellyn,

Remote from public road or dwelling,

Pathway, or cultivated land;

From trace of human foot or hand.

There sometimes doth a leaping fish
Send through the tarn a lonely cheer;