And other sheep from her I raised,
As healthy sheep as you might see;
And then I married, and was rich
As I could wish to be;

Of sheep I number'd a full score,
And every year increas'd my store.

4

'Year after year my stock it grew;
And from this one, this single ewe,
Full fifty comely sheep I raised,
As fine a flock as ever grazed!
Upon the Quantock Hills they fed;
They throve, and we at home did thrive :
-This lusty lamb of all my store

Is all that is alive;

And now I care not if we die,

And perish all of poverty.

5

'Six children, sir, had I to feed ;
Hard labour, in a time of need!

My pride was tamed, and in our grief,
I of the parish ask'd relief,
They said I was a wealthy man ;
My sheep upon the uplands fed,
And it was fit that thence I took
Whereof to buy us bread.

'Do this; how can we give to you,'
They cried, 'what to the poor is due?'

6

'I sold a sheep, as they had said, And bought my little children bread,

And they were healthy with their food;
For me it never did me good.

A woful time it was for me,

To see the end of all my gains,

The pretty flock which I had rear'd

With all my care and pains,
To see it melt like snow away-
For me it was a woful day.

7

Another still! and still another!

A little lamb, and then its mother!
It was a vein that never stopp'd-
Like blood-drops from my heart they dropp'd,
Till thirty were not left alive;

They dwindled, dwindled, one by one;
And I may say that many a time
I wish'd they all were gone ;

Reckless of what might come at last,
Were but the bitter struggle past.

8

To wicked deeds I was inclined,
And wicked fancies cross'd my mind;
And every man I chanced to see,
I thought he knew some ill of me.
No peace, no comfort could I find,
No ease within doors or without;
And crazily and wearily

I went my work about ;

And oft was moved to flee from home

And hide my head where wild beasts roam.

9

'Sir, 'twas a precious flock to me,
As dear as my own children be ;
For daily with my growing store
I loved my children more and more.
Alas! it was an evil time;

God cursed me in my sore distress ;
I pray'd, yet every day I thought
I loved my children less;

And every week, and every day,
My flock it seem'd to melt away;
They dwindled, sir, sad sight to see
From ten to five, from five to three,
A lamb, a wether, and a ewe;
And then at last from three to two;
And, of my fifty, yesterday

I had but only one :

And here it lies upon my arm,

Alas, and I have none;

To-day I fetch'd it from the rock—

It is the last of all my flock.'

W. Wordsworth

CLXI

THE ROMANCE OF THE SWAN'S NEST

Little Ellie sits alone

'Mid the beeches of a meadow,

By a stream-side on the grass;

And the trees are showering down
Doubles of their leaves in shadow
On her shining hair and face.

She has thrown her bonnet by;
And her feet she has been dipping
In the shallow waters' flow-
Now she holds them nakedly
In her hands, all sleek and dripping,
While she rocketh to and fro.

Little Ellie sits alone,

And the smile she softly useth

Fills the silence like a speech: While she thinks what shall be done, And the sweetest pleasure chooseth For her future, within reach.

Little Ellie in her smile
Chooseth- I will have a lover,
Riding on a steed of steeds!
He shall love me without guile;
And to him I will discover

That swan's nest among the reeds.

'And the steed it shall be red-roan, And the lover shall be noble,

With an eye that takes the breath,
And the lute he plays upon
Shall strike ladies into trouble,

As his sword strikes men to death.

'And the steed it shall be shod

All in silver, housed in azure,

And the mane shall swim the wind; And the hoofs along the sod

Shall flash onward and keep measure, Till the shepherds look behind.

Y

'He will kiss me on the mouth Then, and lead me as a lover,

Through the crowds that praise his deeds; And, when soul-tied by one troth,

Unto him I will discover

That swan's nest among the reeds.'

Little Ellie, with her smile
Not yet ended, rose up gaily,—
Tied the bonnet, donn'd the shoe,
And went homeward round a mile,
Just to see, as she did daily,

What more eggs were with the two.

Pushing through the elm-tree copse,
Winding by the stream, light-hearted,
Where the osier pathway leads-
Past the boughs she stoops and stops:
Lo! the wild swan had deserted,
And a rat had gnaw'd the reeds.

Ellie went home sad and slow. If she found the lover ever,

With his red-roan steed of steeds, Sooth I know not! but I know She could never show him-never, That swan's nest among the reeds.

CLXII

SONG

E. B. Browning

I wander'd by the brook-side,

I wander'd by the mill,—