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Takes one unsparing handful for the scrip
Sits by her fire and builds her hope in heaven.
Then let him pass, a blessing on his head! And while, in that vast solitude to which The tide of things has led him, he appears. To breathe and live but for himself alone, Unbalmed, uninjured, let him bear about The good which the benignant law of heaven Has hung around him: and, while life is his, Still let him prompt the unlettered villagers To tender offices and pensive thoughts. Then let him pass, a blessing on his head ! And, long as he can wander, let him breathe The freshness of the valleys; let his blood Struggle with frosty air and winter snows. And let the chartered wind that sweeps the heath Beat his gray locks against his withered face. Reverence the hope whose vital anxiousness Gives the last human interest to his heart. May never house, misnamed of industry, Make him a captive! for that pent-up din, Those life-consuming sounds that clog the air,. Be his the natural silence of old age!
Let him be free of mountain solitudes;
And have around him, whether heard or not,
Rising or setting, let the light at least
Find a free entrance to their languid orbs.
So in the eye of Nature let him die.
Said to have been written by a Lady of Rank, nearly two cen
My father is dead, and my mother is dead-
I am an orphan, without a friend-
I was the delight of a gallant knight,
And he vowed he only lived for me; But the turtle I trow, is doomed to woe,
While her faithless mate away doth flee. Courage, my heart, and bear the wrong— Life is short, though sorrow is strong.
I had a sweet child, on me he smiled,
But the death-storm blew, and the cold night dew Blasted the rose so dear to me.
I wrapped him in his winding sheet,
And strewed him with flowers as frail and sweet.
My kindred are dead, my love is fled;
Courage, my heart, thou canst love no more; Pale is my cheek, my body is weak ;—
Courage, my heart, 'twill soon be o'er. Dim are my eyes, with tears of sorrow; They ache for a night, without a morrow.
As gilded barks that hover near
Together launched our hearts shall steer,
If jealous fortune change our doom,
And tempests bid us sever,
True love shall cheer the midnight's gloom,
Thro' many a bright and cloudy day,
And when life's summer suns decline,
And age brings wintry weather,
Like kindred flowers our hearts shall twine,
And wither both together.
LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER.
A chieftain to the Highlands bound
Cries, Boatman, do not tarry,
And I'll give thee a silver pound
Now, who be ye, would cross Lochgyle, This dark and stormy water ?''Oh, I'm the chief of Ulva's Isle, And this Lord Ullin's daughter.
And fast before her father's men Three days we've fled together; For should he find us in the glen, My blood would stain the heather.
His horsemen hard behind us ride; Should they our steps discover, Then who would cheer my bonny bride, When they have slain her lover?'