So we were left galloping, Joris and I,

Past Loos and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky;
The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh,
'Neath our foot broke the brittle bright stubble like

chaff;

Till over by Dalhem a dome-tower sprang white,
And ‘Gallop,' cried Joris, ‘for Aix is in sight!'

'How they'll greet us!' and all in a moment his roan
Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone;
And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight
Of the news which alone could save Aix from her
fate,

With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim,
And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim.

Then I cast my loose buff-coat, each holster let fall,
Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all,
Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear,
Called my Roland his pet name, my horse without

peer;

Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise, bad or good,

Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood.

And all I remember is friends flocking round

As I sate with his head 'twixt my knees on the
ground,

And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine,
As I poured down his throat our last measure of

wine,

Which (the burgesses voted by common consent)
Was no more than his due who brought good news
from Ghent.
R. Browning

Next came a Raven that liked not such folly:

He belonged, they did say, to the witch Melan

choly!

Blacker was he than blackest jet,

Flew low in the rain and his feathers not wet.

pit was launch storm there di stand.

ed on a rock, a

He picked up the acorn and buried it straight

By the side of a river both deep and great.
Where then did the Raven go?

He went high and low,

Over hill, over dale, did the black Raven go.
Many autumns, many springs
Travelled he with wandering wings:
Many summers, many winters-

I can't tell half his adventures.

At length he came back, and with him a she,
And the acorn was grown to a tall oak tree.
They built them a nest in the topmost bough,
And young ones they had and were happy enow.
But soon came a woodman in leathern guise,
His brow, like a pent house, hung over his eyes.
He'd an axe in his hand, not a word he spoke,
But with many a hem! and a sturdy stroke,

At length he brought down the poor Raven's old
oak.

His young ones were killed, for they could not

depart,

and round flew

East

ard the last shr

And their mother did die of a broken heart.
The boughs from the trunk the woodman did sever;
And they floated it down on the course of the river.
They sawed it in planks, and its bark they did
strip,

see! o'er the to

Aght glad was Beet,

And with this tree and others they made a good

ship.

Death riding ho

e thanked him

They had take Sweet.

aunched; but in sight of the land ere did rise as no ship could with

■ck, and the waves rushed in fast: d flew the Raven and cawed to the

t shriek of the perishing souls— he top-mast the mad water rolls! was the Raven, and off he went

g home on a cloud he did meet, him again and again for this treat: Eaken his all, and revenge it was S. T. Coleridge

XXX

E TO THE CUCKOO

eauteous stranger of the grove! messenger of spring!

Heaven repairs thy rural seat,

woods thy welcome sing.

time the daisy decks the green,

certain voice we hear;

hou a star to guide thy path,

mark the rolling year?

tful visitant, with thee il the time of flowers, ear the sound of music sweet m birds among the bowers.

The school-boy wandering through the wood

To pull the primrose gay,

Starts the new voice of spring to hear,

And imitates the lay.

What time the pea puts on the bloom

Thou fliest thy vocal vale,
An annual guest in other lands,
Another spring to hail.

Sweet bird! thy bower is ever green,

Thy sky is ever clear;

Thou hast no sorrow in thy song,

No winter in thy year!

O could I fly, I'd fly with thee!
We'd make, with joyful wing,

Our annual visit o'er the globe,

When as he

Companions of the spring.

Michael Bruce.

As Robin Hood in the forest stood,
All under the greenwood tree,

There he was aware of a brave young man
As fine as fine might be.

And when he Robin asked

0,hast thou

For my me