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What words the parent's joy could tell
To hear his infant's cry!

14. Concealed beneath a tumbled heap
His hurried search had missed,
All glowing from his rosy sleep,
The cherub boy he kissed.

15. Nor scathe had he, nor harm, nor dread,
But, the same couch beneath,

Lay a gaunt wolf, all torn and dead,
Tremendous still in death.

16. Ah, what was then Llewelyn's pain!
For now the truth was clear;

His gallant hound the wolf had slain
To save Llewelyn's heir.

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[WILLIAM WORDSWORTH, the greatest poet of these modern days, was born 7th April, 1770, and died 23rd April, 1850, full of years and honours. No poet was more decried than Wordsworth. And it may be safely said that no poet is now more appreciated.]

1. OFT I had heard of Lucy Gray;
And, when I crossed the wild,
I chanced to see at break of day,
The solitary child.

2. No mate, no comrade, Lucy knew;
She dwelt on a wide moor,

-The sweetest thing that ever grew
Beside a human door!

3. You yet may spy the fawn at play,
The hare upon the green;

But the sweet face of Lucy Gray
Will never more be seen.

4. "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."

5. "That, father, will I gladly do!
'Tis scarcely afternoon-

The minster-clock has just struck two,
And yonder is the moon."

6. At this the father raised his hook
And snapped a fagot band;
He plied his work ;-and Lucy took
The lantern in her hand.

7. Not blither is the mountain roe:
With many a wanton stroke
Her feet disperse the powdery snow,
That rises up like smoke.

8. The storm came on before its time:
She wandered up and down:
And many a hill did Lucy climb;
But never reached the town.

9. The wretched parents all that night
Went shouting far and wide;
But there was neither sound nor sight
To serve them for a guide.

10. At daybreak on a hill they stood
That overlooked the moor;

And thence they saw the bridge of wood,
A furlong from the door.

11. 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.

12. Then downward from the steep hill's edge
They tracked the footmarks small;

And through the broken hawthorn hedge,
And by the long stone wall:

13. And then an open field they crossed:
The marks were still the same;
They tracked them on, nor ever lost;
And to the bridge they came.

14. They followed from the snowy bank
The footmarks, one by one,

15.

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.

16. O'er rough and smooth she trips along,

And never looks behind;

And sings a solitary song

That whistles in the wind.

WORDSWORTH.

THE SKYLARK.

[JAMES HOGG, better known as the Ettrick Shepherd, was born in 1772. He was a very prolific writer both in prose and His best-known poetical work is "The Queen's Wake." He died 21st November, 1835.]

verse.

1. BIRD of the wilderness,

Blythesome and cumberless,

Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea!
Emblem of happiness,

Blest is thy dwelling-place

Oh to abide in the desert with thee!

Wild is thy lay and loud

Far in the downy cloud,

Love gives it energy, love gave it birth.

Where, on thy dewy wing,
Where art thou journeying?

Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth.

2. O'er fell and fountain sheen,

O'er moor and mountain green,

O'er the red streamer that heralds the day,
Over the cloudlet dim,

Over the rainbow's rim,
Musical cherub, soar, singing, away!

Then, when the gloaming comes,

Low in the heather blooms,

Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be!
Emblem of happiness,

Blest is thy dwelling-place

Oh to abide in the desert with thee!

HOGG.

THE GLOVE AND THE LIONS.

[LEIGH HUNT, born 19th October, 1784, is the author of various poems, none of which have taken a deep hold on the public mind. His shorter pieces are better known than his longer works. He died 28th August, 1859.]

1. KING FRANCIS was a hearty king, and loved a royal

sport,

And one day, as his lions strove, sat looking on the

court:

The nobles filled the benches round, the ladies by their side,

And 'mongst them Count de Lorge, with one he hoped to make his bride;

And truly 'twas a gallant thing to see that crowning

show,

Valour and love, and a king above, and the royal beasts below.

2. Ramped and roared the lions, with horrid laughing

jaws;

They bit, they glared, gave blows like beams, a wind went with their paws;

With wallowing might and stifled roar they rolled one on another,

Till all the pit, with sand and mane, was in a thund'rous smother;

The bloody foam above the bars came whizzing through the air;

Said Francis then, "Good gentlemen, we're better here than there!"

3. De Lorge's love o'erheard the king, & beauteous, lively dame,

With smiling lips, and sharp bright eyes, which always seemed the same :

She thought, "The Count, my lover, is as brave as brave can be ;

He surely would do desperate things to show his love of me!

King, ladies, lovers, all look on; the chance is wondrous fine;

I'll drop my glove to prove his love; great glory shall be mine!"

4. She dropt her glove to prove his love: then looked on him and smiled;

He bowed, and in a moment leaped among the lions wild :

The leap was quick; return was quick; he soon regained his place;

Then threw the glove, but not with love, right in the lady's face!

"In truth!" cried Francis, "rightly done!" and he rose from where he sat :

"No love," quoth he, "but vanity, sets love a task like that!"

HUNT.

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