III. Beside a grotto of their own, With boughs above them closing, But now, upstarting with affright, IV. Away the seven fair Campbells fly, And, over hill and hollow, With menace proud, and insult loud, The youthful Rovers follow. Cried they, "Your Father loves to roam : Enough for him to find The empty house when he comes home ; For us your yellow ringlets comb, For us be fair and kind!" Sing, mournfully, O, mournfully, The solitude of Binnorie! V. Some close behind, some side by side, And let us die together." A lake was near; the shore was steep; They ran, and with a desperate leap VI. The stream that flows out of the lake, XIV. WHO fancied what a pretty sight 1804. Who loved the little Rock, and set Upon its head this coronet? Was it the humor of a child? Or rather of some gentle maid, Whose brows, the day that she was styled I asked, 't was whispered: The device To each and all might well belong; It is the Spirit of Paradise That prompts such work, a Spirit strong, Where life is wise and innocent. 1803. XV. THE REDBREAST CHASING THE BUTTERFLY. ART thou the bird whom Man loves best, The bird that comes about our doors Their Thomas in Finland, And Russia far inland? The bird, that by some name or other And see this sight beneath the skies, If the Butterfly knew but his friend, Under the branches of the tree: In and out, he darts about; Can this be the bird, to man so good, That, after their bewildering, Covered with leaves the little children, What ailed thee, Robin, that thou couldst pursue A beautiful creature, That is gentle by nature? Beneath the summer sky From flower to flower let him fly; 'Tis all that he wishes to do. The cheerer thou of our in-door sadness, *See Paradise Lost, Book XI., where Adam points out to Eve the ominous sign of the Eagle chasing "two Birds of gayest plume," and the gentle Hart and Hind pursued by their enemy. He is the friend of our summer gladness: XVI. SONG FOR THE SPINNING-WHEEL. 1806. FOUNDED UPON A BELIEF PREVALENT AMONG THE PASTORAL VALES OF WESTMORELAND. SWIFTLY turn the murmuring wheel! Night has brought the welcome hour, Help, as if from faery power; Dewy night o'ershades the ground; Turn the swift wheel round and round! Now, beneath the starry sky, Couch the widely scattered sheep;· Ply the pleasant labor, ply! For the spindle, while they sleep, |