And hitherward pursued its
This ponderous block was ca
And o'er vour head, as you г.
"Tis hanging to this day!

"The thing had better been
Whatever thing it were,
Or breeze, or bird, or dog, or
That first did plant you there.
For
you and your green twigs
The little witless shepherd-boy
To come and slumber in your
And, trust me, on some sultry
Both you and he, Heaven kno
Will perish in one hour.

From me this friendly warn The Broom began to doze, And thus to keep herself awak Did gently interpose:

'My thanks for your discourse That more than what you say i I know, and I have known it l Our being whether young or ol Frail is the bond by which we ! Wise, foolish, weak, or strong.

'Disasters, do the best we ca
Will teach both great and smal
And he is oft the wisest man
Who is not wise at all.
For me, why should I wish to r
This spot is my paternal home,
It is my pleasant heritage;
My father many, a happy year
Here spent his careless blossom
Attained a good old age.

"Even such as his may be my
What cause have I to haunt
My heart with terrors? Am I I
In truth a favoured plant!
On me such bounty summer po
That I am covered o'er with flo
And, when the frost is in the sk
My branches are so fresh and go.
That you might look at me and
This plant can never die.

"The butterfly, all green and g
To me hath often flown,
Here in my blossoms to behold
Wings lovely as his own.
When grass is chill with rain or d
Beneath my shade, the mother ev
Lies with her infant lamb; I see
The love they to each other make
And the sweet joy, which they put
It is a joy to me.'"

The Broom might have pursued

Her speech, until the stars of night

Their journey had renewed:

But in the branches of the Oak

Two ravens now began to croak
Their nuptial song, a gladsome air;
And to her own green bower the breeze
That instant brought two stripling bees
To rest, or murmur there.

"One night, my children! from the north There came a furious blast;

At break of day I ventured forth,
And near the cliff I passed.

The storm had fallen upon the Oak,
And struck him with a mighty stroke,

And whirled, and whirled him far away;
And, in one hospitable cleft,

The little careless Broom was left
To live for many a day."

SONG FOR THE SPINNING

WHEEL.

When autumn winds are sobbing? Art thou the Peter of Norway boors? Their Thomas in Finland,

And Russia far inland?
The bird, who by some name or other
All men who know thee call their brother
The darling of children and men?
Could father Adam open his eyes,*
And see this sight beneath the skies,
He'd wish to close them again.

If the butterfly knew but his friend,
Hither his flight he would bend;
And find his way to me

Under the branches of the tree :
In and out, he darts about;

Can this be the bird, to man so good,

That, after their bewildering,

Did cover with leaves the little children,
So painfully in the wood?

AMONG THE PASTORAL VALES

OF WESTMORELAND.

SWIFTLY urn the murmuring wheel!
Night has brought the welcome hour,
When the weary fingers feel
Help, as if from faery power;
Dewy night o'ershades the ground;
Turn the swift wheel round and round!

Now, beneath the starry sky,
Crouch the widely-scattered sheep;-
Ply the pleasant labour, ply!
For the spindle, while they sleep,
Runs with motion smooth and fine,
Gathering up a trustier line.

Short-lived likings may be bred
By a glance from fickle eyes;
But true love is like the thread
Which the kindly wool supplies,
When the flocks are all at rest
Sleeping on the mountain's breast.

THE REDBREAST AND
BUTTERFLY.

ART thou the bird whom man loves best,
The pious bird with the scarlet breast,
Our little English robin;

From flower to flower let him fly;
'Tis all that he wishes to do.

The cheerer thou of our indoor sadness,
He is the friend of our summer gladness:
What hinders, then, that ye should be
Playmates in the sunny weather,
And fly about in the air together!
His beautiful wings in crimson are drest,
A crimson as bright as thine own:
If thou wouldst be happy in thy nest,
O pious bird! whom man loves best,
Love him, or leave him alone!

THE KITTEN AND THE FALLING
LEAVES.

THAT way look, my infant, lo!
What a pretty baby show!
See the kitten on the wall,
Sporting with the leaves that fall,
Withered leaves-one--two-and three-
From the lofty elder-tree!
Through the calm and frosty air
Of this morning bright and fair,

*See "Paradise Lost," book xi., where Adam points out to Eve the ominous sign of the eagle chasing "two birds of gayest plume," and the gentle hart and hind pursued by their enemy.