Bower, a shady enclosure or recess in a garden ; the homes appear, from the number of trees surrounding them, as if they were built in a bower.


Silvery brooks, the streams and brooks look like silver in the sunlight. Hamlet-fane, the village church. Glowing orchards, being bright with blossoms or fruit. Nook, a quiet little place. Lowly, the poor. Eaves, that part of the roof which juts beyond the walls. Hearts of native proof, brave, strong men, Hallowed, looked upon as being holy.

The blessed Homes of England !

How softly on their bowers *
Is laid the holy quietness

That breathes fronı Sabbath hours ! 20.
Solemn, yet sweet, the church-bells' chime

Floats through their woods at morn;
All other sounds, in that still time,

Of breeze and leaf are born.
The cottage Homes of England !

By thousands on her plains,
They are smiling o'er the silvery brooks, *

And round the hamlet-fanes. *
Through glowing orchards * forth they peep,

Each from its nook * of leaves;
And fearless there the lowly * sleep,

As the bird beneath their eaves.*
The free, fair Homes of England;

Long, long, in hut and hall,
May hearts of native proof * be reared 35

To guard each hallowed * wall !
And green for ever be the groves,

And bright the flowery sod,
Where first the child's glad spirit loves

Its country and its God !

THE IVY GREEN.Dickens. CHARLES DICKENS (1812-1870), a native of Landport, Portsmouth. In early life he was connected with the press as a parliamentary reporter. The Pickwick Papers early established his reputation as the greatest living humorist. He was admired by a universal circle of readers. Chief works: Nicholas Nickleby, Old Curiosity Shop, David Copperfield, Dombey and Son, Bleak House, &c. Dainty, being very On a dainty * plant is the Ivy * green, particular as to one's That creepeth o'er ruins old ! food,

n. On right choice food are his meals, I ween,* Ivy, an evergreen creeping plant.

In his cell so lone and cold. I ween, I believe.

The walls must be crumbled, the stones decay'd, 5 Whim, a fancy, a

To pleasure his dainty whim ;* sudden change of the And the mould’ring dust that years have made mind.

Is a merry meal for him.

Creeping where no life is seen, Rare, uncommon.

A rare * old plant is the Ivy green. 10



Fast he stealeth on, though he wears no wings,
And a staunch * old heart has he ;

Staunch, trusty,
How closely he twineth, how tight he clings sound, firm.

To his friend, the huge Oak Tree!
And slily he traileth along the ground,

And his leaves he gently waves,
And he joyously twines and hugs * around Hug, to clasp tightly.
The rich mould of dead men's graves.
Creeping where grim death has been,

A rare old plant is the Ivy green.'
Whole ages have fled, and their works decay'd,

And nations have scattered been;
But the stout old Ivy shall never fade
From its hale * and hearty green.

Hale, healthy. }
The brave old plant in its lonely days

Shall fatten on the past;
For the stateliest building man can raise
Is the Ivy's food at last.

Creeping on where time has been,
A rare old plant is the Ivy green.



LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER.–Campbell. THOMAS CAMPBELL (1777–1844) was a native of Glasgow, and rose to early fame by the publication of his Pleasures of Hope in 1799. Other poems: Gertrude of Wyoming, a tale of Pennsylvania ; Theodoric, a Swiss story; and a number of lyrics, which are, perhaps, the finest in the language.

A CHIEFTAIN,* to the Highlands * bound, Chieftain, the head
Cries : “ Boatman, do not tarry!

of a clan.

Highlands, the mourAnd I'll give thee a silver pound

tainous districts in To row us o'er the ferry.”.

the north and west of

Scotland. 5 “Now, who be ye would cross Lochgyle,* Ferry, a place where This dark and stormy water ?

people are rowed

across a water. “Oh! I'm the chief of Ulva's isle,*

Lochgyle, a small arm And this, Lord Ullin's daughter.

of the sea which runs

off in a north-west “And fast before her father's men

direction from Loch

Three days we've fled together;

Ulvi's isle, a small
For, should he" find us in the glen,*

island on the west

coast of Mull. My blood would stain the heather.*

Glen, a narrow valley “ His horsemen hard behind us ride;

among the moun

tains. Should they our steps discover,

Heather, the heath, 15 Then who will cheer my bonny bride

a small evergreen

shrub. When they have slain her lover?

Wight, a strong nimble person.

Winsome, winning, engaging.


Out spoke the hardy Highland wight : *

“ I'll go, my chief-I'm ready :
It is not for your silver bright,

But for your winsome * lady :
“ And, by my word, the bonny bird

In danger shall not tarry ;
So, though the waves are raging white,

I'll row you o'er the ferry.”

Water - wraith, the
spirit of the storm
(an imaginary thing).
Scowl of heaven, the
threatening darkness
of the sky, betoken-
ing a storm.

Tempest, a storm.

By this the storm grew loud apace,

The water-wraith * was shrieking;
And in the scowl of heaven * each face

Grew dark as they were speaking.
But still as wilder blew the wind,

And as the night grew drearer,
Adown the glen rode armed men,

Their trampling sounded nearer.
“Oh! haste thee, haste !” the lady cries,

“ Though tempests round us gather ;
I'll meet the raging of the skies,

But not an angry father.”
The boat has left a stormy land,

A stormy sea before her-
When, oh! too strong for human hand,

The tempest * gathered o'er her.
And still they rowed amidst the roar

Of waters fast prevailing ;*
Lord Ullin reached that fatal shore,

His wrath * was changed to wailing. *
For sore dismayed* through storm and shade, 45

His child he did discover :
One lovely hand she stretched for aid,

And one was round her lover,
“ Come back ! come back !” he cried in grief,
“ Across this stormy water;

50 And I'll, forgive your Highland chief;

My daughter!-oh! my daughter!”
'Twas vain : * the loud waves lashed the shore,

Return or aid preventing ;
The waters wild went o'er his child,

55 And he was left lamenting.*

Prevailing, gaining the advantage. Wrath, anger. Wailing, weeping. Dismayed, terrified.

Aid, help.

Vain, useless.

Lamenting, mourn. ing loudly.

TO A FIELD MOUSE.—Burns. ROBERT BURNS (1759-1796), the great lyric poet of Scotland, was the son of a small farmer in Ayrshire. He owed little or nothing to education, and, in his genius, followed the impulse of nature alone. Chief poems: Hallowe'en, The Cottar's Saturday Night, Tam o'shanter, and a magnificent collection of songs.

WEE,* sleekit,* cow'rin',* tim'rous beastie, * Wee, very little.
O what a panic's in thy breastie !

Sleekit, sleek, smooth.

Cow'rin', crouching Thou need na start awa sae hasty,

with fear. Wi' bickering brattle ! *

Beastie, little beast.

Bickering battle, rac5 I wad be laith * to rin and chase thee

ing backwards and Wi? murdoring pattle !*


Laith, unwilling. I'm truly sorry man's dominion

Pattle, the stick used

for clearing away the Has broken Nature's social union,

clodsfrom the plough, And justifies that ill opinion IO

Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor earth-born companion,

And fellow-mortal !
I doubt na, whyles,* but thou may thieve; Whyles, sometimes.

What then ? poor beastie, thou maun live! 15 A daimen icker * in a thrave

A daimen icker, &c., 'S a sma' request :

an ear of corn now

and then from the I'll get a blessin' wi' the lave, *

bundle. And never miss't!

Lave, rest.
Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin!
20 Its silly wa's * the win's are strewin':

Wa's, walls.
And naething, now, to big * a new ane, Big, build. -
O’ foggage * green !

Foggage, after-grass.
And bleak December's winds ensuin',* Ensuin', coming on.
Baith snell * and keen !

Snell, biting. 25 Thou saw the fields laid bare and waste,

And weary winter coming fast;
And cozie * here, beneath the blast,

Cozie, comfortable,

Thou thought to dwell,
Till, crash ! the cruel coulter* past

Coulter, plough-iron.
Out thro' thy cell.*

Cell, nest. .
That wee bit heap o' leaves and stibble * Stibble, stalks of corn
Has cost thee mony a weary nibble !

left in the ground

after reaping. Now thou's turn'd out for a' thy trouble

But house, &c., withBut house or hald,*

out a dwelling place. 35 To thole * the winter's sleety dribble

Cranreuch, hoarAnd cranreuch * cauld !



cole, bear"8 place.

Thy lane, alone.

Schemes, plans.
Gang aft a-gley, often
go wrong.
Lea'e, leave.


But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane *
In proving foresight may be vain :
The best laid schemes * o'mice and men

Gang aft a-gley,*
And lea'e * us nought but grief and pain,

For promised joy.
Still thou art blest, compared wi' me !
The present only toucheth thee :
But, och! I backward cast my e'e

On prospects drear !
And forward, tho' I canna see,

I guess and fear.

THE PET LAMB.-Jordsworth. Dew, the moisture THE dew* was falling fast, the stars began to which falls upon the earth from the air,

I heard a voice ; it said “Drink, pretty creature, chiefly at night,

drink!” Espied, saw. And looking o'er the hedge, before me I espied *

A snow-white mountain lamb, with a maiden at

its side. Kine, cows. Nor sheep, nor kine * were near; the lamb was

all alone Tether'd, fastened. And by a slender cord was tether'd * to a stone;

With one knee on the grass did the little maiden

While to that mountain lamb she gave its even-

ing meal.
The lamb, while from her hand he thus his

supper took,
Seem'd to feast with head and ears ; and his tail
with pleasure shook :

10 “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 watch'd them with delight, they were a lovely

Now with her empty can the maiden turn'd away; 15
But ere ten yards were gone, her footsteps did

she stay.

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