"When Spring came on with bud and bell,

Among these rocks did I

Before you hang my wreaths, to tell

That gentle days were nigh!

And in the sultry summer hours,

I sheltered you with leaves and flowers;

And in my leaves

now shed and gone,

The Linnet lodged, and for us two

Chanted his pretty songs, when You

Had little voice or none.

"But now proud thoughts are in your breast

What grief is mine you see.

Ah! would you think, even yet how blest

Together we might be!

Though of both leaf and flower bereft,

Some ornaments to me are left.

Rich store of scarlet hips is mine,

With which I, in my humble way,
Would deck you many a winter's day,
A happy Eglantine!"

VOL. 1.

What more he said I cannot tell.

The Torrent thundered down the dell With aggravated haste;

I listened, nor aught else could hear; The Briar quaked — and much I fear Those accents were his last.

IX.

THE OAK AND THE BROOM.

A PASTORAL.

His simple truths did Andrew glean

Beside the babbling rills;

A careful student he had been

Among the woods and hills.

One winter's night, when through the trees

The wind was roaring, on his knees

His youngest born did Andrew hold:

And while the rest, a ruddy quire,
Were seated round their blazing fire,

This Tale the Shepherd told.

“I saw a crag, a lofty stone

As ever tempest beat!

Out of its head an Oak had grown,

A Broom out of its feet.

The time was March, a cheerful noon

The thaw-wind, with the breath of June,

Breathed gently from the warm south-west: When, in a voice sedate with age,

6

This Oak, a giant and a sage,

His neighbour thus addressed:

Eight weary weeks, through rock and clay, Along this mountain's edge,

The Frost hath wrought both night and day,

Wedge driving after. wedge.

Look up! and think, above your head

What trouble, surely, will be bred;

Last night I heard a crash-'tis true,
The splinters took another road—
I see them yonder - what a load
For such a Thing as you!

You are preparing, as before,

To deck your slender shape;

And yet, just three years back-no more—

You had a strange escape.

Down from yon cliff a fragment broke ;

It thundered down, with fire and smoke,
And hitherward pursued its way :

This ponderous Block was caught by me,
And o'er your head, as you may see,

'Tis hanging to this day!

The Thing had better been asleep,

Whatever thing it were,

Or Breeze, or Bird, or Dog, or Sheep,

That first did plant you there.

For you and your green twigs decoy
The little witless Shepherd-boy

To come and slumber in your bower;
And, trust me, on some sultry noon,

Both you and he, Heaven knows how soon!
Will perish in one hour.