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Nor wistful those gay scenes recall,

Where thou wast fairest of the fair ? And when at last thy love shall die,

25 Wilt thou receive his parting breath ? Wilt thou repress each struggling sigh,

And cheer with smiles the bed of death ? And wilt thou o'er his breathless clay

Strew flowers, and drop the tender tear, Nor then regret those scenes so gay, Where thou wast fairest of the fair ?





It was a summer evening,

Old Kaspar's work was done,
And he before his cottage door

Was sitting in the sun,
And by him sported on the green
His little grandchild Wilhelmine.
She saw her brother Peterkin

Roll something large and round,
Which he beside the rivulet

In playing there had found;
He came to ask what he had found,
That was so large, and smooth, and round.
Old Kaspar took it from the boy,

Who stood expectant by;
And then the old man shook his head,

And with a natural sigh,
“ 'T is some poor fellow's skull,” said he,
“ Who fell in the great victory.


15 20


“I find them in the garden,

For there's many here about; And often when I go to plough,

The ploughshare turns them out ! For many a thousand men,” said he, “ Were slain in that great victory." “ Now tell us what 't was all about,"

Young Peterkin, he cries; And little Wilhelmine looks up

With wonder-waiting eyes; 6 Now tell us all about the war, And what they fought each other for." “ It was the English,” Kaspar cried,

“Who put the French to rout; But what they fought each other for,

I could not well make out; But every body said," quoth he, “ That 't was a famous victory.



“My father lived at Blenheim then,

Yon little stream hard by;
They burnt his dwelling to the ground,

And he was forced to fly;
So with his wife and child he fled,
Nor had he where to rest his head.



“ With fire and sword the country round

Was wasted far and wide,
And many a childing mother then,

And new-born baby died ;
But things like that you know, must be
At every famous victory.



They say it was a shocking sight

After the field was won;

thousand bodies here
Lay rotting in the sun;
But things like that, you know must be
After a famous victory.
“Great praise the Duke of Marlborough won. 55

And our good Prince Eugene”
“Why 't was a very wicked thing!"

Said little Wilhelmine.
“Nay-nay-my little girl," quoth he,
“It was a famous victory.

60 “ And everybody praised the Duke

Who this great fight did win.”
“But what good came of it at last ? "

Quoth little Peterkin.
“Why, that I cannot tell,” said he,

65 “But 't was a famous victory."



THEY sin who tell us Love can die.
With life all other passions fly,

All others are but vanity.
In Heaven Ambition cannot dwell,
Nor Avarice in the vaults of Hell ;

Earthly these passions of the Earth,
They perish where they have their birth ;

But Love is indestructible.
Its holy flame for ever burneth,
From Heaven it came, to Heaven returneth; 10
Too oft on Earth a troubled guest,
At times deceived, at times opprest,

It here is tried and purified,
Then hath in Heaven its perfect rest;
It soweth here with toil and care,

15 But the harvest time of Love is there. 0! when a Mother meets on high

The Babe she lost in infancy, Hath she not then, for pains and fears, The day of woe, the watchful night,

20 For all her sorrow, all her tears, An over-payment of delight?




A WELL there is in the west country,

And a clearer one never was seen ;
There is not a wife in the west country

But has heard of the Well of St. Keyne.
An oak and an elm-tree stand beside, 5

And behind doth an ash-tree grow,
And a willow from the bank above

Droops to the water below.
A traveller came to the Well of St. Keyne;
Joyfully he drew nigh,

10 For from cock-crow he had been travelling,

And there was not a cloud in the sky.
He drank of the water so cool and clear,

For thirsty and hot was he,

And he sat down upon the bank

15 Under the willow-tree. There came a man from the house hard by

At the Well to fill his pail;
On the Well-side he rested it,
And he bade the Stranger hail.

20 “Now art thou a bachelor, Stranger ?” quoth he,

“For an if thou hast a wife, The happiest draught thou hast drunk this day

That ever thou didst in thy life. Or has thy good woman, if one thou hast, 25

Ever here in Cornwall been ?
For an if she have, I 'll venture my life

She has drunk of the Well of St. Keyne."
I have left a good woman who never was here,”
The Stranger he made reply,

30 “But that my draught should be better for that,

I pray you answer me why ?” “St. Keyne," quoth the Cornish-man, "many a time

Drank of this crystal Well,
And before the Angel summon'd her,

35 She laid on the water a spell. “ If the Husband of this gifted Well,

Shall drink before his Wife, A happy man thenceforth is he,

For he shall be Master for life :
“But if the Wife should drink of it first, —

God help the Husband then !"
The Stranger stoopt to the Well of St. Keyne,

And drank of the water again,


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