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eye. soul.


Oh, dry your glistening e'e, John!
My saul langs to be free, John;
And angels beckon me

To the land o' the leal.
4. Oh, haud ye leal and true, John !

Your day it's wearin' through, John;
And I'll welcome you

To the land o' the leal.
Now, fare-ye-weel, my ain John,
This warld's cares are vain, John;
We'll meet, and we'll be fain,

In the land o' the leal.

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BETH GELERT. [The Hon. W. R. SPENCER, one of the brightest ornaments of the

gay circles of the metropolis, was younger son of Lord Charles
Spencer. He was author of some ballads and miscellaneous
pieces, and published a translation of Bürger's “Leonora.”
He held the situation of Commissioner of Stamps, and died
at Paris in 1834.]
1. The spearmen heard the bugle sound,

And cheerily smiled the morn;
And many a brach, and many a hound,

Obeyed Llewelyn's horn.
2. And still be blew a louder blast,

And gave a lustier cheer,
“Come, Gêlert, come, wert never last

Llewelyn's horn to hear.
3. “ () where does faithful Gêlert roam,

The flower of all his race ;
So true, so brave—a lamb at home,

A lion in the chase ?"
4. In sooth, he was a peerless hound,

The gift of royal John;
But now no Gêlert could be found,

And all the chase rode on.

5. That day Llewelyn little loved

The chase of hart and hare;
And scant and small the booty proved,

For Gêlert was not there.
6. Unpleased, Llewelyn homeward hied,

When, near the portal seat,
His truant Gêlert he espied,

Bounding his lord to greet.
7. But, when he gained his castle-door,

Aghast the chieftain stood;
The hound all o'er was smeared with gore;

His lips, his fangs, ran blood.
8. Llewelyn gazed with fierce surprise ;

Unused such looks to meet,
His favourite checked his joyful guise,

And crouched, and licked his feet. 9. Onward, in haste, Llewelyn passed,

And on went Gêlert too;
And still, where'er his eyes he cast,

Fresh blood-gouts shocked his view. 10. O'erturned his infant's bed he found,

With blood-stained covert rent:
And all around the walls and ground

With recent blood besprent.
11. He called his child—no voice replied-

He searched with terror wild ;
Blood, blood he found on every side,

But nowhere found his child. 12. “Hell-hound ! my child's by thee devoured,”

The frantic father cried ;
And to the hilt his vengeful sword

He plunged in Gelert's side. 13. Aroused by Gelert's dying yell,

Some slumberer wakened nigh :

What words the parent's joy could tell

To hear his infant's cry!
14. Concealed beneath a tumbled heap

His hurried search had missed,
All glowing from his rosy sleep,

The cherub boy he kissed.
15. Nor scathe had he, nor harm, nor dread,

But, the same couch beneath,
Lay a gaunt wolf, all torn and dead,

Tremendous still in death.
16. Ah, what was then Llewelyn's pain !

For now the truth was clear ;
His gallant hound the wolf had slain
To save Llewelyn's heir.


LUCY GRAY. [WILLIAM WORDSWORTH, the greatest poet of these modern days,

was born 7th April, 1770, and died 23rd April, 1850, full of
years and honours. No poet was more decried than Words-
worth. And it may be safely said that no poet is now more
1. OFT I had heard of Lucy Gray;

And, when I crossed the wild,
I chanced to see at break of day,

The solitary child.
2. No mate, no comrade, Lucy knew;

She dwelt on a wide moor,
- The sweetest thing that ever grew

Beside a human door !
3. You yet may spy the fawn at play,
The hare



green ;
But the sweet face of Lucy Gray

Will never more be seen.

4. “To-night will be a stormy night

You to the town must go;
And take a lantern, child, to light

Your mother through the snow.”

5. “That, father, will I gladly do !

'Tis scarcely afternoon-
The minster-clock has just struck two,

And yonder is the moon."

6. At this the father raised his hook

And snapped a fagot band;
He plied his work ;--and Lucy took

The lantern in her hand.

7. Not blither is the mountain roe :

With many a wanton stroke
Her feet disperse the powdery snow,
That rises


like smoke.

8. The storm came on before its time :

She wandered up and down :
And many a hill did Lucy climb;

But never reached the town.

9. The wretched parents all that night

Went shouting far and wide ;
But there was neither sound nor sight

To serve them for a guide.
10. At daybreak on a hill they stood

That overlooked the moor;
And thence they saw the bridge of wood,

A furlong from the door. 11. And, turning homeward, now they cried,

“ In heaven we all shall meet!” -When in the snow the mother spied The print of Lucy's feet.

12. Then downward from the steep hill's edge

They tracked the footmarks small;
And through the broken hawthorn hedge,

And by the long stone wall:
13. And then an open field they crossed :

The marks were still the same;
They tracked them on, nor ever lost;

And to the bridge they came. 14. They followed from the snowy

The footmarks, one by one,
Into the middle of the plank ;

And further there were none!
15. —Yet some maintain that to this day

She is a living child;

you may see sweet Lucy Gray

Upon the lonesome wild.
16. O'er rough and smooth she trips along,

And never looks behind;
And sings a solitary song
That whistles in the wind.



THE SKYLARK. [JAMES Hogy, better known as the Ettrick Shepherd, was born in 1772. He was a very prolific writer both in prose and

His best-known poetical work is “The Queen's
Wake.” He died 21st November, 1835.]
1. BIRD of the wilderness,

Blythesome and cumberless,
Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea !

Emblem of happiness,

Blest is thy dwelling-place-
Oh to abide in the desert with thee!

Wild is thy lay and loud

Far in the downy cloud,
Love gives it energy, love gave it birth.

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