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The magpie chatters with delight;
Beneath a rock, upon the grass,
On pipes of fycamore they play
And thus, as happy as the day,
Along the river's stony marge
A thousand lambs are on the rocks,
Those boys with their green coronal;
That plaintive cry! which up the hill
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 cries
James stopped with no good will:
"Twill keep you working half a year.
"Now cross where I fhall cross-come on,
And follow me where I fhall lead.".
The other took him at his word,
But did not like the deed.
It was a spot which you may fee
The gulf is deep below;
And in a bafin black and small
Receives a lofty waterfall.
With ftaff in hand, across the cleft
When lift! he hears a piteous moan—
A lamb, that in the pool is pent
The lamb had flipped into the ftream,
His dam had feen him when he fell,
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.