When at last I was forced from my Sheelah to part, She said, (while the sorrow was big at her heart,) Oh! remember your Sheelah when far, far away: And be kind, my dear Pat, to our poor dog Tray.

Poor dog! he was faithful and kind to be sure,
And he constantly loved me although I was poor;
When the sour-looking folk sent me heartless away,
I had always a friend in my poor dog Tray.

When the road was so dark, and the night was so cold,

And Pat and his dog were grown weary and old,
How snugly we slept in my old coat of grey,
And he lick'd me for kindness-my old dog Tray.

Though my wallet was scant I remember'd his case,
Nor refused my last crust to his pitiful face;
But he died at my feet on a cold winter day,
And I play'd a sad lament for my poor dog Tray.

Where now shall I go, poor, forsaken, and blind?
Can I find one to guide me, so faithful and kind?
To my sweet native village, so far, far away,
I can never more return with my poor dog Tray.
T. Campbell

CXXII

THE FAITHFUL BIRD

The greenhouse is my summer seat;
My shrubs, displaced from that retreat,
Enjoy'd the open air;

▪ goldfinches whose sprightly song I been their mutual solace long, Lived happy prisoners there.

y sang as blithe as finches sing
t flutter loose on golden wing,
And frolic where they list;
ngers to liberty, 'tis true,
that delight they never knew,
And therefore never miss'd.

nature works in every breast, h force not easily suppress'd; And Dick felt some desires, _t, after many an effort vain, cructed him at length to gain A pass between the wires.

: open windows seem'd to invite freeman to a farewell flight; But Tom was still confin'd;

1 Dick, although his way was clear, s much too generous and sincere To leave his friend behind.

settling on his cage, by play,
1 chirp, and kiss, he seem'd to say,
You must not live alone-

r would he quit that chosen stand,
I, with slow and cautious hand,
Return'd him to his own.

W. Cowper

CXXIII

LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER

A chieftain to the Highlands bound
Cries, 'Boatman, do not tarry!
And I'll give thee a silver pound
To row us o'er the ferry.'

'Now who be ye, would cross Lochgyle, This dark and stormy water?'

'O, I'm the chief of Ulva's isle, And this Lord Ullin's daughter.

'And fast before her father's men Three days we've fled together, For should he find us in the glen,

My blood would stain the heather.

'His horsemen hard behind us ride;
Should they our steps discover,
Then who will cheer my bonny bride
When they have slain her lover?'

Out spoke the hardy Highland wight,
'I'll go, my chief, I'm ready;
It is not for your silver bright;
But for your winsome lady:

'And by my word! the bonny bird In danger shall not tarry :

So though the waves are raging white, I'll row you o'er the ferry.'

this the storm grew loud apace,
he water-wraith was shrieking ;
I in the scowl of Heaven each face
Frew dark as they were speaking.

still as wilder blew the wind, nd as the night grew drearer, own the glen rode armed men, 'heir trampling sounded nearer.

haste thee, haste!' the lady cries,
Though tempests round us gather;
meet the raging of the skies,
But not an angry father.'

e boat has left the stormy land, stormy sea before her,

men, oh! too strong for human hand The tempest gathered o'er her.

d still they row'd amidst the roar Of waters fast prevailing :

d Ullin reach'd that fatal shore ; His wrath was changed to wailing.

r, sore dismay'd, through storm and shade His child he did discover:

e lovely hand she stretch'd for aid,

And one was round her lover.

ome back! come back!' he cried in griet Across this stormy water:

d I'll forgive your Highland chief, My daughter! oh, my daughter!'

'Twas vain the loud waves lash'd the shore,

Return or aid preventing;

The waters wild went o'er his child,

And he was left lamenting.

G

T. Campbell