When he had learnt what thing it was
That fent this rueful cry; I ween,
The boy recovered heart, and told
The fight which he had seen.
Both gladly now deferred their task;
Nor was there wanting other aid,-
A Poet, one who loves the brooks
Far better than the fages' books,
By chance had thither strayed;
And there the helpless lamb he found,
By thofe huge rocks encompassed round.

-

He drew it gently from the pool,
And brought it forth into the light :
The fhepherds met him with his charge,

An unexpected fight!

Into their arms the lamb they took,

Said they, "He's neither maimed nor fcarred."

Then up the steep afcent they hied,

And placed him at his mother's fide;
And gently did the Bard

Those idle fhepherd-boys upbraid,
And bade them better mind their trade.

The Rotha.

TO JOANNA.

MID the fmoke of cities did you pass

Your time of early youth; and there you learned,
From years of quiet induftry, to love

The living beings by your own fire-fide,

With fuch a strong devotion, that your heart

Is flow towards the fympathies of them
Who look upon the hills with tenderness,

And make dear friendships with the ftreams and

groves.

Yet we, who are tranfgreffors in this kind,

Dwelling retired in our fimplicity

Among the woods and fields, we love you well,
Joanna! and I guess, fince you have been
So diftant from us now for two long years,
That you will gladly liften to discourse,

However trivial, if you thence are taught

That they, with whom you once were happy, talk Familiarly of you and of old times.

While I was feated, now fome ten days past, Beneath those lofty firs that overtop

Their ancient neighbour, the old steeple-tower,
The Vicar from his gloomy house hard by

Came forth to greet me; and when he had asked,
"How fares Joanna, that wild-hearted maid!
And when will fhe return to us?" he paused ;.
And, after short exchange of village news,
He with grave looks demanded, for what cause,
Reviving obfolete idolatry,

I, like a Runic priest, in characters

Of formidable fize had chifelled out

Some uncouth name upon the native rock,
Above the Rotha, by the foreft fide.
--Now, by those dear immunities of heart
Engendered betwixt malice and true love,
I was not loth to be fo catechifed,
And this was my reply :-" As it befel,
One Summer morning we had walked abroad
At break of day, Joanna and myself.

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-'Twas that delightful season when the broom, Full-flowered, and visible on every steep,

Along the copfes runs in veins of gold.