Hunger, and cold, and weariness, these are a frightful three;
But another curse there is beside, that darkens poverty,
It may not have one thing to love, how small soe'er it be.
A thousand flocks were on the hills, a thousand flocks and more,
Feeding in sunshine pleasantly ; they were the rich man's store:
There was the while one little lamb beside a cottage door;

A little lamb that rested with the children 'neath the tree,
That ate, meek creature, from their hands, and nestled to their

knee;
That had a place within their hearts, one of the family.
But want, even as an armed man, came down upon their shed,
The father labored all day long that his children might be fed,
And, one by one, their household things were sold to buy them

bread.

That father, with a downcast eye, upon his threshold stood, Gaunt poverty each pleasant thought had in his heart subdued. “ What is the creature's life to us ? ” said he: “'t will buy us food.

“Ay, though the children weep all day, and with down-drooping

head Each does his small task mournfully, the hungry must be fed; And that which has a price to bring must go to buy us bread.” It went. Oh! parting has a pang the hardest heart to wring, But the tender soul of a little child with fervent love doth cling, With love that hath no feignings false, unto each gentle thing. Therefore most sorrowful it was those children small to see, Most sorrowful to hear them plead for the lamb so piteously: “Oh! mother dear, it loveth us; and what beside have we?" "Let's take him to the broad green hill!” in his impotent despair Said one strong boy: "let's take him off, the hills are wide and

fair;

I know a little hiding place, and we will keep him there."

Ob vain! They took the little lamb, and straightway tied him

down, With a strong cord they tied him fast; and o'er the common brown, And o'er the hot and flinty roads, they took him to the town. The little children through that day, and throughout all the morrow, From everything about the house a mournful thought did borrow; The very bread they had to eat was food unto their sorrow.

Oh! poverty is a weary thing, 't is full of grief and pain; It keepeth down the soul of man, as with an iron chain; It maketh even the little child with heavy sighs complain.

THE FAIRIES OF THE CALDON Low.

A MIDSUMMER LEGEND.

“And where have you been, my Mary,

And where have you been from me ?”
“I've been to the top of the Caldon Low,

The midsummer-night to see!”
“And what did you see, my Mary,

All up on the Caldon Low ?”
“ I saw the glad sunshine come down,

And I saw the merry winds blow.”
" And what did you hear, my Mary,

All up on the Caldon Hill ? "
“I heard the drops of the water made,

And the ears of the green corn fill.”

« Oh! tell me all, my Mary,

All, all that ever you know;
For you must have seen the fairies,

Last night, on the Caldon Low."

u Then take me on your knee, mother;

And listen, mother of mine.
A hundred fairies danced last night,

And the harpers they were nine.
« And their harp-strings rung so merrily

To their dancing feet so small;
But oh! the words of their talking

Were merrier far than all."

“ And what were the words, my Mary,
That then

you

heard them say ?” “I'll you all, my mother;

But let me have my way.

“Some of them played with the water,

And rolled it down the hill;
. And this,' they said, 'shall speedily turn

The poor old miller's mill:

" " For there has been no water

Ever since the first of May;
And a busy man will the miller be

At dawning of the day.
**Oh! the miller, how he will laugh

When he sees the mill-dam rise !
The jolly old miller, how he will laugh

Till the tears fill both his eyes!'
"And some they seized the little winds

That sounded over the hill ;
And each put a horn unto his mouth,

And blew both loud and shrill:
* * And there,' they said, "the merry winds go

Away from every horn;
And they shall clear the mildew dank

From the blind, old widow's corn.
u Oh! the poor, blind widow,

Though she has been blind so long,
She'll be blithe enough when the mildew's gone,

Anu the corn stands tali and strong.'
“And some they brought the brown lint-seed,

And flung it down from the Low;
. And this,' they said, .by the sunrise,

In the weaver's croft shall grow.

u « Oh ! the poor, lame weaver,

How will he laugh outright
When he sees his dwindling flax-field

All full of flowers by night!'

“And then outspoke a brownie,

With a long beard on his chin;
I have spun np all the tow,' said he,

And I want some more to spin.

""I've spun a piece of hempen cloth,

And I want to spin another;
A little sheet for Mary's bed,

And an apron for her mother.'
u With that I could not help but laugh,

And I laughed out loud and free;
And then on the top of the Caldon Low

There was no one left but me.
FOL. XIL —8

“ And all on the top of the Caldon Low

The mists were cold and gray, And nothing I saw but the mossy stones

That round about me lay.

“But, coming down from the hill-top,

I heard afar below,
How busy the jolly miller was,

And how the wheel did go.

“And I peeped into the widow's field,

And, sure enough, were seen
The yellow ears of the mildewed corn,

All standing stout and green.

“And down by the weaver's croft I stole,

To see if the flax were sprung; But I met the weaver at his gate,

With the good news on his tongue.

“Now, this is all I heard, mother,

And all that I did see;
So, pr’ythee, make my bed, mother.

For I'm tired as I can be."