THE splintered, northern mountains lay
All round about my mother's dwelling,
All full of craggy hollows gray,

Where ice-cold, sparkling streams were welling.

2.

Upon the mountains lay the snow,

Far-gleaming snows that melted never;

And deeply, darkly, far below,

Went sounding on, a lonely river.

3.

Upon the mountain summits hung

The tempest-clouds so darkly scowling, And winds in caverned hollows sung, Like unto desert creatures howling.

LIFE AMONG THE MOUNTAINS.

4.

Day after day the sunshine slept,

Night after night the moon was hidden; And rain and wind about us kept,

Week after week, like guests unbidden.

5.

And many a time the deep snows fell
In the dark months of winter weather,
And quite shut in our mountain dell,
We and our lonely flock together.

6.

We had a little flock of sheep,

I herded them both night and morning; My mother in the house did keep

Her busy wheel for ever turning.

7.

What joy it was, as I brought them round,
Into their pen at nightfall darkling,

To hear that old wheel's droning sound,
And see the cheerful wood-fire sparkling!

8.

On stilly eves, beside my flock,

The sounds I heard will haunt me ever,

The eagle rising from the rock,

The wind-borne roaring of the river:

9.

The gathering of the coming storm,
Like far-off angry giants talking;
The gray mist like a ghostly form

Over the ridgy mountain stalking!

175

10.

I saw, I heard, I loved them all;

My days and nights were never weary, Though many a passing guest would call My life forlorn, those mountains dreary.

11.

Would I were back among the hills,

Could see the heath and scent the gowan, Would I could hear those sounding rills, And sit beneath the lonely rowan !

12.

But our little flock of sheep are gone,
Like snowy clouds in moonlight flying;
And my mother lies 'neath the churchyard stone,
With long, dry bent-grass round her sighing!

THE BETTER LAND.

1.

'I HEAR thee speak of the better land,
Thou call'st its children a happy band;
Mother! oh where is that radiant shore-
Shall we not seek it, and weep no more?
Is it where the flower of the orange blows,
And the fireflies glance through the myrtle boughs?'
-'Not there, not there, my child !'

2.

Is it where the feathery palm-trees rise,

And the date grows ripe under sunny skies;
Or 'midst the green islands of glittering seas,
Where fragrant forests perfume the breeze;

THE LION, THE HEIFER, THE SHEEP, AND GOAT. 177

And strange bright birds, on their starry wings,
Bear the rich hues of all glorious things?'

'Not there, not there, my child !'

3.

Is it far away in some region old,

Where the rivers wander o'er sands of gold?-
Where the burning rays of the ruby shine,
And the diamond lights up the secret mine,
And the pearl gleams forth from the coral strand?—
Is it there, sweet mother, that better land?'

-Not there, not there, my child!'

4.

'Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy!
Ear hath not heard its deep songs of joy ;
Dreams cannot picture a world so fair—
Sorrow and death may not enter there;
Time doth not breathe on its fadeless bloom,
Far beyond the clouds, and beyond the tomb,
-It is there, it is there, my child !'

THE LION, THE HEIFER, THE SHEEP, AND
THE GOAT.

A HEIFER, her sister the Sheep, and a Goat,
With the lord of the manor, a Lion of note,

In days of yore,

A paction swore
To join their store,

Be the same less or more,

And their losses and gains to divide by four.

L

A deer was caught in the snares of the Goat, Who immediately sends

To summon her friends.

They willingly come on their prey to gloat,
The Lion began on his nails to count;
He held up his paw,

And laid down the law,

Deciding in quarters to serve it out,
In so many pieces he shared the prey.
'I hold the first,' he cried, 'as lord.
It belongs to my title, and none dare say
Upon that score an objecting word.
The second too-to me as my due
Does the right of my strength allot;
The third I claim, in my valour's name,
Be wise and dispute it not;

If you dare so much as the fourth to touch,
I'll strangle you on the spot.'

ODE ON THE PASSIONS.

WHEN Music, heavenly maid! was young,
While yet in early Greece she sung,
The Passions oft, to hear her shell,
Thronged around her magic cell ;
Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting,
Possessed beyond the muse's painting;
By turns they felt the glowing mind
Disturbed, delighted, raised, refined,
Till once, 'tis said, when all were fired,
Filled with fury, rapt, inspired,