FORESIGHT, OR THE CHARGE OF A CHILD TO HIS YOUNGER COMPANION. THAT is work of waste and ruin- We must spare them-here are many: Do not touch it! summers two I am older, Anne, than you. Pull the Primrose, Sister Anne! Pull as many as you can. Make your bed, and make your bower; Primroses, the Spring may love them— Withered on the ground must lie; God has given a kindlier power Each within its leafy bower; And for that promise spare the flower! He will suddenly stop in a cunning nook, -Yet seek him,—and what shall you find in the place? Save, in a corner, a heap of dry leaves, That he's left, for a bed, to beggars or thieves ! As soon as 't is daylight, to-morrow, with me All last summer, as well you know, Hark! over the roof he makes a pause, And growls as if he would fix his claws Right in the slates, and with a huge rattle -But let him range round; he does us no harm, We build up the fire, we 're snug and warm; Untouch'd by his breath see the candle shines bright, And burns with a clear and steady light; CHARACTERISTICS OF A CHILD THREE YEARS Books have we to read,—but that half-stifled knell— OLD. LOVING she is, and tractable, though wild; Mock-chastisement and partnership in play. Than when both young and old sit gathered round Even so this happy Creature of herself Is all-sufficient; solitude to her Is blithe society, who fills the air With gladness and involuntary songs. Light are her sallies as the tripping fawn's Forth-startled from the fern where she lay couched; Of the soft breeze ruffling the meadow flowers; At day-break on a hill they stood And thence they saw the Bridge of wood, A furlong from their door. They wept, and turning homeward, cried, « In fleaven we all shall meet :» Half breathless from the steep hill's edge And then an open field they crossed: They followed from the snowy bank Those footmarks, one by one, Into the middle of the plank; And further there were none! -Yet some maintain that to this day She is a living Child; Great How is a single and conspicuous hill, which rises towards the foot of Thirlmere, on the western side of the beautiful dale of Legberthwaite, along the high road between Keswick and Amble The rain and storm are things that scarcely can come side, here. «Rest, little Young One, rest; thou hast forgot the day When my Father found thee first in places far away; Many flocks were on the hills, but thou wert own'd by none, And thy mother from thy side for evermore was gone. « He took thee in his arms, and in pity brought thee home. A blessed day for thee! then whither wouldst thou roam? A faithful Nurse thou hast; the dam that did thee yean Upon the mountain tops no kinder could have been. << Thou know'st that twice a day I have brought thee in this Can Fresh water from the brook, as clear as ever ran; « Thy limbs will shortly be twice as stout as they are now, <«< It will not, will not rest!-Poor Creature, can it be «Alas, the mountain tops that look so green and fair! --As homeward through the lane I went with lazy feet, Again, and once again, did I repeat the song; a tone, That I almost received her heart into my own. >> THE IDLE SHEPHERD-BOYS; OR, DUNGEON GHYLL-FORCE.' A PASTORAL. THE valley rings with mirth and joy; The Magpie chatters with delight; The mountain Raven's youngling brood Or through the glittering Vapours dart Ghyll, in the dialect of Cumberland and Westmoreland, is a short, and, for the most part, a steep narrow valley, with a stream running through it. Force is the word universally employed in these dialects for Waterfall. |