The green earth echoed to the feet

Of lambs that bounded through the glade,
From shade to sunshine, and as fleet
From sunshine back to shade.

every trace

Of inward sadness had its charm;
"Kilve," said I,
And so is Liswyn farm."

66 was a favoured place,

My boy was by my side, so slim
And graceful in his rustic dress!
And, as we talked, I questioned him,
In very idleness.

"Now tell me, had you rather be," I said, and took him by the arm,

"On Kilve's smooth shore, by the green sea, Or here at Liswyn farm?"

In careless mood he looked at me,
While still I held him by the arm,
And said, "At Kilve I'd rather be
Than here at Liswyn farm."

"Now, little Edward, say why so;
My little Edward, tell me why."
"I cannot tell, I do not know."
"Why, this is strange," said I;

"For, here are woods, and green-hills warm:

There surely must some reason be

Why you would change sweet Liswyn farm For Kilve by the green sea."

At this, my Boy hung down his head,
He blushed with shame, nor made reply;
And five times to the Child I said,
"Why, Edward, tell me why?"

His head he raised there was in sight,
It caught his eye, he saw it plain -
Upon the house-top, glittering bright,
A broad and gilded Vane.

Then did the Boy his tongue unlock;
And thus to me he made reply:
"At Kilve there was no weather-cock,
And that's the reason why."

O dearest, dearest Boy! my heart
For better lore would seldom yearn,
Could I but teach the hundredth part
Of what from thee I learn.

X.

RURAL ARCHITECTURE.

THERE'S George Fisher, Charles Fleming, and Reginald Shore,
Three rosy-cheeked School-boys, the highest not more
Than the height of a Counsellor's bag;

To the top of GREAT How did it please them to climb:
And there they built up, without mortar or lime,
A Man on the peak of the crag.

They built him of stones gathered up as they lay:
They built him and christened him all in one day,
An Urchin both vigorous and hale;

And so without scruple they called him Ralph Jones.
Now Ralph is renowned for the length of his bones;
The Magog of Legberthwaite dale.

Just half a week after, the wind sallied forth,
And, in anger or merriment, out of the North,
Coming on with a terrible pother,

From the peak of the crag blew the Giant away.
And what did these School-boys? - The very next day
They went and they built up another.

Some little I've seen of blind boisterous works
By Christian Disturbers more savage than Turks,
Spirits busy to do and undo:

At remembrance whereof my blood sometimes will flag;
Then, light-hearted Boys, to the top of the crag;
And I'll build up a Giant with you.

GREAT HOW is a single and conspicuous hill, which rises towards the foot of Thirlmere, on the western side of the beautiful dale of Legberthwaite, along the high road between Keswick and Ambleside.

XI.

THE PET-LAMB.

A PASTORAL.

THE dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink;
I heard a voice; it said, “Drink, pretty Creature, drink!”
And, looking o'er the hedge, before me I espied

A snow-white mountain Lamb with a Maiden at its side.

No other sheep were near, the Lamb was all alone,
And by a slender cord was tethered to a stone;

With one knee on the grass did the little Maiden kneel,
While to that Mountain Lamb she gave its evening meal.

The Lamb, while from her hand he thus his supper took, Seemed to feast with head and ears; and his tail with pleasure shook.

"Drink, pretty Creature, drink," she said in such a tone That I almost received her heart into my own.

'Twas little Barbara Lewthwaite, a Child of beauty rare!
I watched them with delight, they were a lovely pair.
Now with her empty Can the Maiden turned away:
But ere ten yards were gone her footsteps did she stay.

Towards the Lamb she looked; and from that shady place I unobserved could see the workings of her face :

If Nature to her tongue could measured numbers bring, Thus, thought I, to her Lamb that little Maid might sing:

"What ails thee, Young One? what? Why pull so at thy cord? Is it not well with thee? well both for bed and board? Thy plot of grass is soft, and green as grass as can be ; Rest, little Young One, rest; what is't that aileth thee?

"What is it thou wouldst seek? What is wanting to thy heart? Thy limbs are they not strong? And beautiful thou art : This grass is tender grass; these flowers they have no peers; And that green corn all day is rustling in thy ears!

"If the Sun be shining hot, do but stretch thy woollen chain,
This beech is standing by, its covert thou canst gain;
For rain and mountain storms! the like thou needest not fear.
The rain and storm are things that scarcely can come here.

"Rest, little Young One, rest; thou hast forgot the day When my Father found thee first in places far away; Many flocks were on the hills, but thou wert owned by none, And thy mother from thy side for evermore was gone.

"He took thee in his arms, and in pity brought thee home: A blessed day for thee! then whither wouldst thou roam? A faithful Nurse thou hast; the dam that did thee yean Upon the mountain tops no kinder could have been.

"Thou knowest that twice a day I have brought thee in this Can
Fresh water from the brook, as clear as ever ran;
And twice in the day, when the ground is wet with dew,
I bring thee draughts of milk, warm milk it is and new.

66 Thy limbs will shortly be twice as stout as they are now, Then I'll yoke thee to my cart like a pony in the plough; My Playmate thou shalt be; and when the wind is cold Our hearth shall be thy bed, our house shall be thy fold.