CL

THE TWA CORBIES.

As I was walking all alone

I heard twa corbies making a moan;
The tane unto the t'other say,
"Where shall we gang and dine to-day?

"In behind yon auld fail dyke,

I wot there lies a new-slain Knight;
And naebody kens that he lies there,
But his hawk, his hound, and lady fair.

"His hound is to the hunting gane,
His hawk, to fetch the wild-fowl hame,
His lady's ta'en another mate,
So we may mak our dinner sweet.

"Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane, And I'll pick out his bonny blue een: Wi ae lock o' his gowden hair,

We'll theek our nest when it grows bare.

"Mony a one for him makes moan,
But nane sall ken where he is gone:

O'er his white banes, when they are bare,
The wind shall blaw for evermair."

OLD BALLAD.

CLI

ENIGMA.

'Twas in heaven pronounced, and 'twas muttered in hell, And echo caught faintly the sound as it fell;

On the confines of earth 't was permitted to rest,
And the depths of the ocean its presence confessed.
'T will be found in the sphere when 'tis riven asunder,
Be seen in the lightning and heard in the thunder,
'T was allotted to man with his earliest breath,
Attends him at birth, and awaits him in death,
Presides o'er his happiness, honour and health,
Is the prop of his house, and the end of his wealth,
In the heaps of the miser 't is hoarded with care,
But is sure to be lost on his prodigal heir.

It begins every hope, every wish it must bound,
With the husbandman toils, and with monarchs is crowned,
Without it the soldier, the seaman may roam,

But woe to the wretch who expels it from home!
In the whispers of conscience its voice will be found,

Nor e'en in the whirlwind of passion be drowned.

'T will not soften the heart; but though deaf be the ear,
It will make it acutely and instantly hear;
Yet in shade let it rest, like a delicate flower-
Ah! breathe on it softly-it dies in an hour.

C. FANSHAWE.

CLII

THE FISHERMAN.

The water rushed, the water swelled,
A fisherman sat nigh;

Calm was his heart, and he beheld
His line with watchful eye :

While thus he sits with tranquil look,
In twain the water flows;

Then, crowned with reeds, from out the brook,
A lovely woman rose.

To him she sung, to him she said,

"Why tempt' st thou from the flood,

By cruel arts of man betrayed,

Fair youth, my scaly brood?

"Ah! knew'st thou how we find it sweet Beneath the waves to go,

Thyself would leave the hook's deceit,

And live with us below.

"Love not their splendour in the main
The sun and moon to lave?

Look not their beams as bright again,
Reflected on the wave?"

Tempts not this river's glassy blue,

So crystal, clear, and bright?

Tempts not thy shade, which bathes in dew,
And shares our cool delight?"

The water rushed, the water swelled,

The fisherman sat nigh;

With wishful glance the flood beheld,
And longed the wave to try.

To him she said, to him, she sung,
The river's guileful queen :
Half in he fell, half in he sprung,

And never more was seen.

From the German of Goethe.

CLIII

TWILIGHT.

The twilight is sad and cloudy,
The wind blows wild and free,
And like the wings of sea-birds
Flash the white caps of the sea.

But in the fisherman's cottage
There shines a ruddier light,
And a little face at the window
Peers out into the night.

Close, close it is pressed to the window,
As if those childish eyes
Were looking into the darkness,
To see some form arise.

And a woman's waving shadow
Is passing to and fro,

Now rising to the ceiling,

Now bowing and bending low.

What tale do the roaring ocean,

And the night-wind, bleak and wild, As they beat at the crazy casement, Tell to that little child?

And why do the roaring ocean,

And the night-wind wild and bleak, As they beat at the heart of the mother, Drive the colour from her cheek?

LONGFELLOW.

CLIV

THE WATER KING.

With gentle murmur flowed the tide,
While by its fragrant flowery side
The lovely maid, with carols gay,
To Mary's church pursued her way.