The magpie chatters with delight;
The mountain-raven's youngling brood
Have left the mother and the neft;
And they go rambling eaft and weft
In fearch of their own food;
Or through the glittering vapours dart
In very wantonnefs of heart.

Beneath a rock, upon the grass,
Two boys are fitting in the sun;
It seems they have no work to do,
Or that their work is done.

On pipes of fycamore they play
The fragments of a Christmas hymn;
Or with that plant which in our dale
We call ftag-horn or fox's tail,

Their rufty hats they trim :
And thus, as happy as the day,
Those shepherds wear the time away.

Along the river's stony marge The fand-lark chants a joyous fong; The thrush is bufy in the wood, And carols loud and strong.

A thousand lambs are on the rocks,
All newly-born! both earth and sky
Keep jubilee; and more than all,

G

Those boys with their green coronal;
They never hear the cry,
That plaintive cry! which up the hill
Comes from the depth of Dungeon-Ghyll.

Said Walter, leaping from the ground, "Down to the ftump of yon old yew We'll for our whiftles run a race." -Away the fhepherds flew.

They leapt they ran—and when they came Right oppofite to Dungeon-Ghyll, Seeing that he should lose the prize, "Stop!" to his comrade Walter criesJames ftopped with no good will: Said Walter then, "Your task is here, 'Twill keep you working half a year.

"Now cross where I fhall cross-come on,

And follow me where I shall lead."

The other took him at his word,

But did not like the deed.

It was a spot which you may fee
If ever you to Langdale go:

Into a chasm a mighty block

Hath fallen, and made a bridge of rock:
The gulf is deep below;

And in a bafin black and small
Receives a lofty waterfall.

With ftaff in hand, across the cleft
The challenger began his march;
And now, all eyes and feet, hath gained
The middle of the arch.

When lift! he hears a piteous moan—
Again!-his heart within him dies-
His pulse is stopped, his breath is loft,
He totters, pale as any ghost,

And looking down, he fpies

A lamb, that in the pool is pent
Within that black and frightful rent.

The lamb had flipped into the fstream,
And fafe, without a bruife or wound,
The cataract had borne him down
Into the gulf profound.

His dam had seen him when he fell,
She faw him down the torrent borne ;

And, while with all a mother's love

She from the lofty rocks above

Sent forth a cry forlorn,

The lamb, still swimming round and round, Made answer to that plaintive found.