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TO THE GRASSHOPPER AND CRICKET.
I dreamt of my lady, I dreamt of her shroud,” Cried a voice from the kinsmen, all wrathful and loud; “And empty that shroud and that coffin did seem; Glenara! Glenara! now read me my dream!"
O, pale grew the cheek of that chieftain, I ween, When the shroud was unclosed and no lady was seen; When a voice from the kinsmen spoke louder in
scorn, 'Twas the youth who had loved the fair Ellen of
“I dreamt of my lady, I dreamt of her grief,
In dust low the traitor has knelt to the ground,
TO THE GRASSHOPPER AND CRICKET. - Hunt. .
GREEN little vaulter in the sunny grass,
O sweet and tiny cousins, that belong,
A CHIEFTAIN to the Highlands bound
Cries, “ Boatman, do not tarry,
To row us o'er the ferry.”
"Now who be ye would cross Lochgyle,
This dark and stormy water ?” 60, I'm the chief of Ulva's Isle,
And this Lord Ullen's daughter.
“ And fast before her father's men
Three days we've fled together;
My blood would stain the heather.
6. His horsemen fast behind us ride,
Should they our steps discover,
When they have slain her lover ?"
Outspoke the hardy Highland wight,
“ I'll go, my chief, -I'm ready, It is not for your silver bright,
But for your winsome lady!
LORD ULLEN'S DAUGHTER.
“And, by my word, the bonny bird
In danger shall not tarry;
I'll row you o'er the ferry.”
By this the storm grew loud apace,
The water-wraith was shrieking;
Grew dark as they were speaking.
But still, as wilder blew the wind,
And as the night grew drearer,
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 a stormy land,
A stormy sea before her,
The tempest gathered o'er her!
And still they rowed, amidst the roar
Of waters fast prevailing;
His wrath was changed to wailing.
For, sore dismayed, through storm and shade,
His child he did discover;
And one was round her lover.
“Come back! come back!” he cried in grief,
-.Across this stormy water;
My daughter! O my daughter!”
'T was vain; the loud waves lashed the shore,
Return or aid preventing;
And he was left lamenting.
TO THE FRINGED GENTIAN. - Bryant.
Thou blossom bright with autumn dew,
Thou comest not when violets lean
Thou waitest late, and com'st alone,
Then doth thy sweet and quiet eye
I would thai thus, when I shall see
MY DOVES. - Miss Barrett.
My little doves have left a nest
Upon an Indian tree,
Or motion from the sea ;
The tropic flowers looked up to it,
The tropic stars looked down;
With feathers softly brown;
And God them taught, at every close
Of water far, and wind,
Their chanting voices kind;
Fit ministers ! of living loves
Theirs hath the calmest sound,
To lifeless noises round,