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And, oh! preserve my father too,
And may I pay him reverence due,
And may I my best thoughts employ
To be my parents hope and joy;
And, oh! preserve my brothers both
From evil doings and from sloth, (1)
And may we always love each other,
Our friends, our father, and our mother,
And still, O Lord, to me impart (2)
An innocent and grateful heart,
That after my last sleep I may
Awake to thy eternal 3 day! AMEN.

COLERIDGE. (1) Sloth-idleness. (2) Impart-teach. (3) Eternal--everlasting.


Oft had I heard of Lucy Gray,

And when I crossed the wild,
I chanced to see, at break of day,

The solitary child.

No mate, no comrade, Lucy knew,

She dwelt on a wild moor, (1)
The sweetest thing that ever grew

Beside a human door.
You yet may spy the fawn (2) at play,

The hare upon the green;
But the sweet face of Lucy Gray,

Will never more be seen.
(1) Moor--a marsh, or wide extent of uncultivated ground.

(2) Fawn-a young deer

"To night will be a stormy night,

You to the town must go;
And take a lantern, child, to light

Your mother through the snow.' “That, father, will I gladly do ;

'Tis scarcely afternoon; The minster clock has just struck two,

And yonder is the moon.'
At this, the father raised his hook,

And snapped a faggot band;
He plied his work ;-and Lucy took

The lantern in her hand.
Not blither (3) is the mountain roe;

With many a wanton stroke,
Her feet dispersed the powdery snow,

That rises up like smoke.
The storm came on before its time;

She wandered up and down;
And many a hill did Lucy climb,

But never reached the town.
The wretched parents, all that night

Were shouting far and wide; :
But there was neither sound nor sight,

To serve them for a guide.
At day-break on a hill they stood,

That overlooked the moor;
And thence they saw the bridge of wood,
A furlong from their door.
(3) Blither-merrier, gayer.

And turning homeward, now, they cried,

'In heaven we all shall meet!' When in the snow, the mother spied

The print of Lucy's feet.

Then downward from the steep hill's edge,

They tracked (4) the foot-marks small;
And through the broken hawthorn hedge,

And by the long stone wall.

They followed, from the snowy bank,

The foot-marks 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;
That you may see sweet Lucy Gray,

Upon the lonesome wild.

O’er rough and smooth she trips along,

And never looks behind;
And sings a solitary song,
That whistles in the wind.

RDSWORTH. (4) Tracked-traced. The subject of these verses is a little girl, who is bid by her Father on a winters' day, to take a lantern and light her mother home who is gone to the neighbouring town. She starts off in a cheerful manner in the afternoon, crosses the moor all covered with snow, the evening coming on she loses her way, her parents getting uneasy at her not returning sooner, seek her, follow her track into the middle of the plank, but further there were none!' Such was the sad fate of poor Lucy Gray.


I hear thee speak of the better land;
Thou callest its children a happy band;
Mother! oh where is that radiant (1) shore,
Shall we not seek it, and weep no more ?
Is it where the flower of the orange blows,
And the fire-flies (2) dance through the myrtle boughs ?
Not there, not there, my child!'

Is it where the feathery palm-trees rise,
And the date grows ripe under sunny skies,
Or midst the green islands of glittering seas,
Where fragrant forests perfume the breeze,
And strange bright birds on their starry wings,
Bear the rich hues of all glorious things ?
“Not there, not there, my child!'

Is it far away, in some region old,
Where the rivers wander o'er sands of gold-
Where the burning rays of the ruby (3) shine,
And the diamond lights up the secret mine,
And the pearl gleams forth from the coral strand-
Is it there, sweet mother, that better land ?
• Not there, not there, my child !'

(1) Radiant shining. (2) Fire-flies—beautiful insects found in tropical climes, which emit light from beneath their wing, and flying about in the lovely evenings of those beauteous countries, appear liko particles of fire. (3) Ruby—a precious red stone.

* Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy!
Ear hath not heard its deep songs of joy,
Dreams cannot picture a world so fair,
Sorrow and death may not enter there ;
Time doth not breathe on its faultlegs 4 bloom,
For beyond the clouds, and beyond the tomb,
It is there, it is there, my child !!


(4) Faultless-without fault or imperfection.

This deservedly well known and popular poem, is worthy of your admiration, and will I am sure be learnt rather as a pleasure than a task.

The poetess is perfectly right- . the better land' or Heaven towards which, we all at times cling as to a bright and holy hope, is not to be found on any part of this world of ours. It is beyond the clouds and bevond the tomb, in a region of unspeakable beauty, where the Saviour of the world will shed his love, his glory, and his goodness on all around. May you live worthily, so as to be received into those holy habitations.


Father of all ! in every age,

In every clime ador'd, (1)
By saint, by savage, and by sage,

Jehovah, Jove, or Lord !

Thou great First Cause, least understood,

Who all my sense confin’d
To know but this, that thou art good,

And that myself am blind;

(1) Ador'd-worshipped.

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