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ANONYMOUS. (Spanish.)

My ear-rings my ear-rings!-he'll say they Translation of JOHN GIBSON Lockhart.

should have been,

Not of pearl and of silver, but of gold and

glittering sheen,

WATCH SONG.

THE SPINNING-WHEEL SONG.

MELLOW the moonlight to shine is beginning; Close by the window young Eileen is spinning;

Bent o'er the fire, her blind grandmother,

sitting,

Is croaning, and moaning, and drowsily knitting

“Eileen, achora, I hear some one tapping.” "Tis the ivy, dear mother, against the glass flapping."

"Eileen, I surely hear somebody sighing."
"Tis the sound, mother dear, of the summer
wind dying."

Merrily, cheerily, noisily whirring,
Swings the wheel, spins the reel, while the

foot's stirring;

Sprightly, and lightly, and airily ringing, Thrills the sweet voice of the young maiden

singing.

"What's that noise that I hear at the window,

I wonder?"

"Tis the little birds chirping the holly-bush under."

"What makes you be shoving and moving

your stool on,

And singing all wrong that old song of 'The

Coolun?""

There's a form at the casement-the form of

her true love

And he whispers, with face bent, "I'm waiting for you, love;

Get up on the stool, through the lattice step lightly,

We'll rove in the grove while the moon's shining brightly."

Merrily, cheerily, noisily whirring,

Swings the wheel, spins the reel, while the

foot's stirring;

Sprightly, and lightly, and airily ringing, Thrills the sweet voice of the young maiden singing.

The maid shakes her head, on her lip lays

her fingers,

Steals up from her seat-longs to go, and yet lingers;

231

A frightened glance turns to her drowsy grandmother,

Puts one foot on the stool, spins the wheel with the other.

Lazily, easily, swings now the wheel round; Slowly and lowly is heard now the reel's sound;

Noiseless and light to the lattice above her The maid steps-then leaps to the arms of her lover.

Slower-and slower-and slower the wheel Lower-and lower-and lower the reel rings; swings; Ere the reel and the wheel stop their ringing and moving,

Through the grove the young lovers by moonlight are roving.

JOHN FRANCIS WALLER,

WATCH SONG.

THE sun is gone down,

And the moon upward springeth;
The night creepeth onward;
The nightingale singeth.
To himself said a watchman,
"Is any knight waiting
In pain for his lady,

To give her his greeting?
Now, then, for their meeting!"
His words heard a knight,

In the garden while roaming: "Ah, watchman!" he said,

"Is the daylight fast coming? And may I not see her,

And wilt not thou aid me?" "Go, wait in thy covert,

Lest the cock crow reveillé,

And the dawn should betray thee."

Then in went that watchman,

And called for the fair; And gently he roused her:

"Rise, lady! prepare! New tidings I bring thee,

And strange to thine ear; Come, rouse thee up quickly—

Thy knight tarries near;
Rise, lady appear!"

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It stole aslant the pear-tree bough,
And through the woodbine fringe,
And kissed the maiden's neck and brow,
And bathed her in its tinge.

O, beauty of my heart! he said,
O, darling, darling mine!
Was ever light of evening shed

On loveliness like thine?

Why should I ever leave this spot,
But gaze until I die?

A moment from that bursting thought
She felt his footstep nigh.
One sudden, lifted glance-but one-
A tremor and a start-
So gently was their greeting done
That who would guess their heart?

Long, long the sun had sunken down,
And all his golden hail

Had died away to lines of brown,
In duskier hues that fail.
The grasshopper was chirping shrill—
No other living sound
Accompanied the tiny rill

That gurgled under ground—
No other living sound, unless
Some spirit bent to hear
Low words of human tenderness
And mingling whispers near.

The stars, like pallid gems at first,

Deep in the liquid sky,

Now forth upon the darkness burst,
Sole kings and lights on high;
For splendor, myriad-fold, supreme,
No rival moonlight strove;
Nor lovelier e'er was Hesper's beam,

Nor more majestic Jove.

But what if hearts there beat that night
That recked not of the skies,
Or only felt their imaged light
In one another's eyes?

And if two worlds of hidden thought
And longing passion met,
Which, passing human language, sought
And found an utterance yet;
And if they trembled as the flowers

That droop across the stream,
And muse the while the starry hours
Wait o'er them like a dream;

And if, when came the parting time,
They faltered still and clung;
What is it all?-an ancient rhyme
Ten thousand times besung-
That part of Paradise which man
Without the portal knows—
Which hath been since the world began,
And shall be till its close.

ANONYMOUS

JOCK OF HAZELDEAN.

"WHY weep ye by the tide, ladye-— Why weep ye by the tide? I'll wed ye to my youngest son,

And ye shall be his bride;
And ye shall be his bride, ladye,

Sae comely to be seen."—
But ay she loot the tears down fa'
For Jock of Hazeldean.

"Now let this wilful grief be done,
And dry that cheek so pale;
Young Frank is chief of Errington,
And lord of Langley dale:
His step is first in peaceful ha',

His sword in battle keen."-
But ay she loot the tears down fa'
For Jock of Hazeldean.

"A chain of gold ye shall not lack,
Nor braid to bind your hair,
Nor mettled hound, nor managed hawk,
Nor palfrey fresh and fair;
And you the foremost of them a'

Shall ride, our forest queen."—
But ay she loot the tears down fa'
For Jock of Hazeldean.

The kirk was decked at morning tide;
The tapers glimmered fair;
The priest and bridegroom wait the bride,
And knight and dame are there :
They sought her both by bower and ha';
The ladye was not seen.-
She's o'er the border, and awa'
Wi' Jock of Hazeldean.

SIR WALTER SCOTT

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