"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,

And snapped a faggot band;

20

He plied his work ;-and Lucy took

The lantern in her hand.

24

Not blither is the mountain roe:

With many a wanton stroke

Her feet disperse the powdery snow,
That rises up like smoke.

28

The storm came on before its time;

She wandered up and down;

And many a hill did Lucy climb,
But never reached the town.

The wretched parents, all that night,
Went shouting far and wide;

But there was neither sound nor sight
To serve them for a guide.

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,
"In heaven we all shall meet; "
-When in the snow the mother spied
The print of Lucy's feet.

Then downwards from the steep hill's edge
They tracked the footmarks small;
And through the broken hawthorn hedge
And by the long stone-wall;

And then an open field they crossed
The marks were still the same;
They tracked them on, nor ever lost;
And to the bridge they came.

They followed from the snowy bank,
Those footmarks, one by one,

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52

Into the middle of the plank;

And further there were none !

56

W. WORDSWORTH (abridged).

THE CONCEITED FROG.

As an ox in a meadow was grazing one morn,

A whole parcel of frogs gather'd round,

Who annoy'd him so much by their croaking and scorn, That he bid them at once quit the ground.

4

-But, instead of so doing, they only the more
Did his deep indignation augment,

By most saucily saying, they'd perish before
They would to his dictation assent.

8

"Then, vile croakers," said he, "since ye dare be so rude

I'll not suffer such pests to survive,"

And, so saying, he trampled so o'er the whole brood. That but one left the meadow alive.

12

Who, on telling his mother, to whom he thence fled, Of the fate his poor brothers had met, ""Twas oh! mother, so mighty a monster," said he, "I shall never his image forget."

16

"How big, pray," ask'd the old Frog, "how big did you say ?"

"As big as―," but she check'd his reply, As, dilating herself in a wonderful way, She said boastfully, "Bigger than I?"

20

"Ay, indeed, mother, and so much too," he replied, 66 That your efforts are utterly vain,

For you never could, how long soever you tried,
To a tenth of his size e'en attain."

24

But so great was her vanity that she averr'd,
Sorely stung by his tone of contempt,

She would never be from her intention deterr'd,
And would yet triumph in her attempt.

28

Yet altho' he again and again interfered,
She would listen to nothing he said;

But so long in her fatuous aim persevered,

That at last from the strain she dropt dead.

32

Ah, Vanity! happy are such as can say,

That they are of the fortunate few

Who, having allow'd thee to lead them astray,
Have had no cause their folly to rue.

36

J. W. CROLY.

TWILIGHT.

THE twilight is sad and cloudy,
The wind blows wild and free,
And like the wings of sea birds
Flash the white caps of the sea.

But in the fisherman's cottage

There shines a ruddier light, And a little face at the window

Peers out into the night.

Close, close it is pressed to the window,

As if those childish eyes

Were looking into the darkness

To see some form arise.

And a woman's waving shadow
Is passing to and fro,
Now rising to the ceiling,

Now bowing and bending low.

What tale do the roaring ocean,

And the night-wind, bleak and wild,

As they beat at the crazy casement,

Tell to that little child?

And why do the roaring ocean,

And the night-wind, wild and bleak, As they beat at the heart of the mother, Drive the colour from her cheek?

LONGFELLOW.

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8

12

16

20

24

THE PARROT.

THE deep affections of the breast,

That Heaven to living things imparts, Are not exclusively possessed

By human hearts.

A parrot, from the Spanish main,

Full young, and early caged, came o'er, With bright wings to the bleak domain

Of Mulla's shore.

To spicy groves, where he had won
His plumage of resplendent hue,
His native fruits, and skies, and sun,

He bade adieu.

For these he changed the smoke of turf,
A heathery land and misty sky,

And turned on rocks and raging surf

His golden eye.

But, petted, in our climate cold

He lived and chatter'd many a day; Until with age, from green and gold,

His wings grew grey.

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8

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16

20

At last, when blind and seeming dumb,

A Spanish stranger chanced to come

He scolded, laughed, and spoke no more,

To Mulla's shore;

He hailed the bird in Spanish speech,
The bird in Spanish speech replied,

Flapped round his cage with joyous screech,
Dropt down, and died.

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28

T. CAMPBELL.