No mate, no comrade Lucy knew; -The sweetest thing that ever grew You yet may spy the fawn at play, "To-night will be a stormy night— 'That, father, will I gladly do: 'Tis scarcely afternoon The minster-clock has just struck two, And yonder is the moon!" At this the father raised his hook, Not blither is the mountain roe: The storm came on before its time, The wretched parents all that night At daybreak on a hill they stood That overlooked the moor; And thence they saw the bridge of wood, A furlong from their door. They wept--and, turning homeward, cried, Then downwards from the steep hill's edge And then an open field they crossed: They followed from the snowy bank -Yet some maintain that to this day That you may see sweet Lucy Gray O'er rough and smooth she trips along, And sings a solitary song That whistles in the wind. A FAREWELL. CHARLES KINGSLEY. My fairest child, I have no song to give you; No lark could pipe to skies so dull and gray; Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you For every day. Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever; Do noble things, not dream them, all day long: And so make life, death, and that vast forever One grand, sweet song. THE MOUNTAIN AND THE SQUIRREL. RALPH WALDO EMERSON. The mountain and the squirrel Had a quarrel, And the former called the latter "Little Prig;" "You are doubtless very big; But all sorts of things and weather Must be taken in together, And a sphere, And I think it no disgrace If I'm not so large as you, A very pretty squirrel track; Talents differ; all is well and wisely put; A VISIT FROM THE SEA. ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON: Far from the loud sea beaches Where he goes fishing and crying, Why is the sea-gull flying? Here are no fish to dive for; Fresh is the river water, And quiet among the rushes; But for the rooks and thrushes. Pity the bird that has wandered! Hurry him home to the ocean, Let him come here no more! High on the sea-cliff ledges The white gulls are trooping and crying, LOCHINVAR. WALTER SCOTT. Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the West, He stayed not for brake, and he stopped not for stone, The bride had consented, the gallant came late; So boldly he entered the Netherby Hall, Among bridesmen, and kinsmen, and brothers and all; "I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied;— The bride kissed the goblet; the knight took it up, So stately his form, and so lovely her face, While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume; And the bridemaidens whispered, "Twere better by far To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar. " One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, When they reached the hall-door, and the charger stood near; So light to the croup the fair lady he swung, So light to the saddle before her he sprung; "She is won! we are gone! over bank, bush, and scaur; They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young Lochinvar. There was mounting 'mong Græmes of the Netherby clan; Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran; There was racing and chasing on Cannobie lea, Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar ? THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM. ROBERT SOUTHEY. The English and Dutch under the Duke of Marlborough and Prince Eugene of Savoy, defeated the French and Bavarians at Blenheim in 1704. It was a summer evening, Old Kaspar's work was done, And by him sported on the green |