Jackdaw.

The Jackdaw sat in the Cardinal's chair!
Bishop and Abbot and Prior were there,
Many a monk and many a friar,
Many a knight and many a squire,
With a great many more of lesser degree,-
In sooth a goodly company;

And they served the Lord Primate on bended knee.

Never, I ween,

Was a prouder seen,

Read of in books or dreamt of in dreams, Than the Cardinal Lord Archbishop of

Rheims.

a. R. H. BARHAM-Ingoldsby Legends. The Jackdaw of Rheims.

An old miser kept a tame jackdaw, that used to steal pieces of money, and hide them in a hole, which a cat observing, asked, "Why he would hoard up those round shining things that he could make no use of?" "Why," said the jackdaw, "my master has a whole chestfull, and makes no more use of them than I do."

b. SWIFT Thoughts on Various Subjects.

The lark now leaves his watery nest,
And climbing, shakes his dewy wings.
He takes your window for the East
And to implore your light he sings.

Musical cherub, soar, singing, away!
Then, when the gloaming comes,
Low in the heather blooms
Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be!
Emblem of happiness,

Blest is thy dwelling-place

O, to abide in the desert with thee!
HOGG-The Skylark,

0.

I said to the sky-poised Lark:
'Hark-hark!

Thy note is more loud and free
Because there lies safe for thee

A little nest on the ground."

C. D. M. MULOCK-A Rhyme About Birds.

No more the mounting larks, while Daphne sings,

Shall, list'ning, in mid-air suspend their wings. d. POPE-Pastorals. Winter. L. 53.

O earliest singer! O care-charming bird!
Married to morning, by a sweeter hymn
Than priest e'er chanted from his cloister dim
At midnight,-or veiled virgin's holier word
At sunrise or the paler evening heard.
ADELAIDE PROCTER-The Flood of

e.

O happy skylark springing

Up to the broad, blue sky,

Too fearless in thy winging,
Too gladsome in thy singing,
Thou also soon shalt lie

Where no sweet notes are ringing.

Thessaly.

0.

ƒ. CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI-Gone Forever.

surpass.

SHELLEY-To a Skylark.

L. 27.

L. 6.

Lo! here the gentle lark, weary of rest,
From his moist cabinet mounts up on high,
And wakes the morning, from whose silver
breast

The sun ariseth in his majesty.

Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky! Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound?

Or, while the wings aspire, are heart and eye Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground? Thy nest which thou canst drop into at will, Those quivering wings composed, that music

still!

8. WORDSWORTH-Poems of the

Imagination. To a Skylark.