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“What! art thou critical ?" quoth he; ""Then shall the herd,' John Brunskill “ Eschew that heart's disease
cried, That seeketh for displeasure where *From yon dumb steeple crune; The intent hath been to please. And thou and I, on this hillside,
Will listen to their tune. “By those four bells there hangs a tale, Which being told, I guess,
“So, while the merry Bells of Brough Will make thee hear their scanty peal
For many an age ring on, With proper thankfulness.
John Brunskill will remembered be,
When he is dead and gone, “Not by the Cliffords were they given,
“"As one who, in his latter years, Nor by the Tuftons' line;
Contented with enough, Thou hearest in that peal the crune
Gave freely what he well could spare Of old John Brunskill's kine.
To buy the Bells of Brough.' “On Stanemore's side, one summer eve, "Thus it hath proved: three hundred John Brunskill sat to see
years His herds in yonder Borrodale
Since then have passed away, Come winding up the lea.
And Brunskill's is a living namie
Among us to this day.' “Behind them, on the lowland's verge, In the evening light serene,
“More pleasure," I replied, “shall I Brough's silent tower, then newly built From this time forth partake, By Blenkinsop, was seen.
When I remember Helbeck woods,
For old John Brunskill's sake. “Slowly they came in long array, With loitering pace at will;
“He knew how wholesome it would be, At times a low from them was heard, Among these wild, wide fells Far off, for all was still.
And upland vales, to catch, at times,
The sound of Christian bells ;“The hills returned that lonely sound Upon the tranquil air:
“What feelings and what impulses The only sound it was which then
Their cadence might convey Awoke the echoes there.
To herdsman or to shepherd-boy,
Whiling in indolent employ “Thou hear'st that lordly bull of mine, The solitary day ;
Neighbor,' quoth Brunskill then : *How loudly to the hills he crunes,
“That, when his brethren were convened That crune to him again !
To meet for social prayer,
He too, admonished by the call, " "Think'st thou if you whole herd at once In spirit might be there;
Their voices should combine, Were they at Brough, that we might not “Or when a glad thanksgiving sound, Hear plainly from this upland spot l'pou the winds of heaven, That cruming of the kine?'
Was sent to speak a nation's joy,
For some great blessing given, “That were a crune, indeed,' replied His comrade, 'which, I ween,
“For victory by sea or land, Might at the Spital well be heard,
And happy peace at length; And in all dales between.
Peace by his country's valor won,
And stablished by her strength;"Up Mallerstang to Eden's springs, The eastern wind upon its wings “When such exultant peals were borne The mighty voice would bear;
Upon the mountain air, And Appleby woull hear the sound, The sound should stir his blood, and give Methinks, when skies are fair.'
An English impulse there."
Such thoughts were in the old man's I loved a love once, fairest among women! mind,
Closed are her doors on me now, I must When he that eve looked down
not see her,From Stanemore's side on Borrodale, All, all are gone, the old familiar faces. And on the distant town.
I have a friend, a kinder friend has no And had I store of wealth, methinks, Another herd of kine,
Like an ingrate, I left my friend abruptly; John Brunskill, I would freely give, Left him, to muse on the old familiar That they might crune with thine.
faces. Ghost-like I paced round the haunts of
Earth seemed a desert I was bound to CHARLES LAMB,
Seeking to find the old familiar faces. (1775 - 1834)
Friend of my bosoin, thou more than a THE HOUSEKEEPER.
Why wert not thou born in my father's The frugal snail, with forecast of repose, dwelling? Carries his house with him where'er he So might we talk of the old familiar faces, –
goes; Peeps out, ---and if there comes a shower How some they have died, and some they of rain,
have left me, Retreats to his small domicile again.
And some are taken from me; all are Touch but a tip of him, a horn, - 't is
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
Their place ye may not well supply, And feasts himself; sleeps with himself Though ye among a thousand try, o' nights.
With vain endeavor.
Yet cannot I by force be led
To think upon the wormy bed
And her together.
A rising step, did indicate
Of pride and joy no common rate, THE OLD FAMILIAR FACES.
That flushed her spirit.
I know not by what name beside I HAVE had playmates, I have had com
I shall it call; - if 't was not pride, panions,
It was a joy to that allied, In my days of childhood, in my joyful
She did inherit. school-days; All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
Her parents held the Quaker rule,
Which doth the human feeling cool ; I have been laughing, I have been ca But she was trained in nature's school, rousing,
Nature had blessed her.
A waking eye, a prying mind,
A hawk's keen sight ye cannot blind, THE RAPTURE OF KILMENY.
Bonny Kilineny gaed up the glen;
And pu'the cress-Hower round the spring; When from thy cheerful eyes a ray
The scarlet hip and the hindberrye, Hath struck a bliss upon the day, And the nut that hangs frae the hazelA Lliss that would not go away,
But lang may her minny look o'er the wa',
Lang the laird of Duveira blame,
And lang, lang greet, or Kilmeny coma
hame! (1772 - 1835.]
When many a day had come and fled, WHEN MAGGY GANGS AWAY. When grief grew calm, and hope was dead.
When mass for Kilnieny's soul liau been O, WHAT will a' the lads do
sung, When Maggy gangs away?
When the bedesman had prayed, and the 0, what will a' the lads do
dead-bell rung, When Maggy gangs away?
Late, late in a gloamin' when all was There's no a heart in a' the glen
still, That disna dread the day;
When the fringe was red on the westlin' O, what will a' the lads do
hill, When Maggy gangs away?
The wood was sere, the moon i' the wane,
The reek o' the cot hung over the plain, Young Jock has ta'en the hill for 't, Like a little wee cloud in the world its A waefu' wight is he;
lane; Poor Harry's ta'en the bed for 't, When the ingle lowed with an eiry leme, An' laid him down to dee;
Late, late in the gloamin' Kilmeny came And Sandy's gane unto the kirk,
hame! And learnin fast to pray ; 0, what will a' the lads do
“Kilmeny, Kilmeny, where have you When Maggy gangs away?
Lang hae we sought baith holt and den, The young laird o' the Lang Shaw By linn, by ford, by greenwood tree, Has drunk her health in wine;
Yet you are halesome and fair to see. The priest has said - in confidence Where gat you that joup o'the lily sheen? The lassie was divine;
That bonny snooil o' the birk sae green! And that is mair in maiden's praise And these roses, the fairest that ever were Than ony priest should say ;
seen? But 0, what will the lads do
Kilmeny, Kilmeny, where have you When Maggy gangs away?
been?" The wailing in our green glen
Kilmeny looked up with a lovely grace, That day will quaver high,
But nae smile was seen on Kilmeny's face; T will draw the redbreast frae the wood, As still was her look, and as still was The laverock frae the sky;
her e'e, The fairies frae their beds o' dew
As the stillness that lay on the emerant Will rise and join the lay, An' hey! what a day 't will be
Or the mist that sleeps on a waveless When Maggy gangs away?
For Kilmeny had been she knew not And the sigh that heaves a bosom sae fair! where,
And dear to Heaven the words of truth, And Kilmeny had seen what she could And the praise of virtue frae beauty's not declare.
mouth! Kilmeny had been where the cock never And dear to the viewless forms of air, crew,
The minds that kythe as the body fair! Where the rain never fell, and the wind o bonny Kilmeny! free frae stair, never blew;
If ever you seek the world again, But it seemed as the harp of the sky had That world of sin, of sorrow, and fear, Tulls,
O, tell of the joys that are waiting here, And the airs of heaven played round her And tell of the signs you shallshortly see"; tongue,
Of the times that are now, and the times When she spake of the lovely forins she that shall be." And a land where sin had never been, — They lifted Kilmeny, they led her away, A land of love and a land of light, And she walked in the light of a sunless Withouten sun or moon or night;
day: Where the river swaʼd a living stream, The sky was a dome of crystal bright, And the light a pure celestial beam: The fountain of vision, and fountain of The land of vision it would seem,
light; A still, an everlasting dream.
The emerald fields were of dazzling glow, In yon green-wood there is a waik, And the flowers of everlasting blow. And in that waik there is a wene, Then deep in the stream her body they Anal in that wene there is a maike,
laid, That neither has flesh, blood, nor bane; That her youth and beauty never might And down in yon green-wood lie walks fade; his lane.
Anıl they smiled on heaven, when they
saw her lie In that green wene Kilmeny lay, In the stream of life that wandered by. Her bosom happed wi' the flowerets gay; And she heard a song, she heard it sung, But the air was soft, and the silence deep, She kend not where; but sae sweetly it And bonny Kilmeny fell sound asleep;
rung, She kend nae mair, nor opened her e'e, It fell on her ear like a dream of the Till waked by the hymns of a far countrye. She awaked on a couch of the silk sae “O, blest be the day Kilmeny was born! slim,
Now shall the land of the spirits see, All striped wi' the bars of the rainbow's Now shall it ken what a woman may be!
The sun that shinpson the world sae bright, And lovely beings round were rife, A borrowed gleid of the fountain of light; Who erst had travelled mortal life; Anıl the moon that sleeks the sky sae dun, And aye they smiled, and 'gan to speer, Like a gouden bow, or a beamless sun, "What spirit has brought this mortal Shall wear away, and be seeni nae mair here!"
And the angels shall miss them travelling They clasped her waist and her hands the air. sae fair,
But lang, lang after baith night and day, They kissed her cheek, and they kemed When the sun and the world have elved her hair,
a way; And round came many a blooming fere, When the sinner has gane to his waesome Saying, “Bonny Kilmeny, ye're welcome doom, here!
Kilmeny shall smile in eternal bloom !" “0, would the fairest of mortal kind Then Kilmeny begged again to see Aye keep the holy truths in mind, The friends she had left in her own counThat kindred spirits their motions see,
trye, Who watch their ways with anxious e'e, To tell of the place where she had been, And grieve for the guilt of humanitye! And the glories that lay in the land un. 0, sweet to Heaven the maiden's prayer,
To warn the living maidens fair, The hawk and the hern attour them hung, The loved of Heaven, the spirits' care, And the merl and the mavis forhooyed That all whose minds unmeled remain
their young Shall bloom in beauty when time is gane. And all in a peaceful ring were hurled ;
It was like an eve in a sinless world! With distant music, soft and deep, They lulled Kilmeny sound asleep; When a month aud a day had come and And when she awakened, she lay her lane, gane, All happed with flowers in the green-wood Kilmeny sought the green-wood wene;
There laid her down on the leaves sae When seven long years were come and green, Hled;
And Kilmeny on earth was never mair When grief was calm, and hope was dead; When scarce was remembered Kilmeny's But 0, the words that fell from her name,
mouth Late, late in a gloamin' Kilmeny caine Were words of wonder, and words of hame!
truth! And 0, her beauty was fair to see, But all the land were in fear and dread, But still and steadfast was her e'e ! For they kendna whether she was living Such beauty bard may never declare, For there was no pride nor passion there; It wasna her lame, and she couldna le. And the soft desire of maiden's een
main; In that mild face could never be seen. She left this world of sorrow anıl pain, Her seymar was the lily flower,
And returned to the Land of Thought And her cheek the moss-rose in the shower, again. And her voice like the distant melodye, That floats along the twilight sea. But she loved to raike the lanely glen, And keeped afar frae the haunts of
THOMAS MOORE. men ; Her holy hymns unheard to sing,
FLY TO THE DESERT.
Our Arab tents are rude for thee;
Our rocks are rough, but smiling there In ecstasy of sweet devotion,
The acacia waves her yellow hair, 0, then the glen was all in motion!
Lonely and sweet, nor loved the less The wild beasts of the forest came,
For flowering in a wilderness. Broke from their bughts and faulds the Our sands are bare, but down their slope
The silvery-footed antelope
Then come, - thy Arab maid will be
Some treasure it through life had sought;