The palm1 and may2 make country houses gay,
Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day,
And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay,
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo.

The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet,
Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit,
In every street these tunes our ears do greet,
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
Spring! the sweet Spring!

TO THE CUCKOO.

AIL, beauteous stranger1 of the grove!
Thou messenger of Spring!
Now heaven repairs thy rural seat,
And woods thy welcome sing.

What time the daisy decks the green,
Thy certain voice we hear;
Hast thou a star to guide thy path,
Or mark the rolling year?

Delightful visitant! with thee

I hail the time of flowers,

And hear the sound of music sweet

From birds among the bowers.

1 See Part I., page 92.

2

may, hawthorn.

1 The Cuckoo comes to England from the South in the Spring, and leaves again for Southern lands in July or August. A North of England rhymo says:

In April cuckco sings her lay;

In May she sings both night and day:
In June she loses her sweet strain:
In July she is off again.

The schoolboy wandering through the wood, To pull the primrose gay,

Starts, the new voice of Spring to hear,

And imitates thy lay.

What time the pea puts on the bloom
Thou fliest thy vocal vale,

An annual guest in other lands,
Another Spring to hail.

Sweet bird! thy bower is ever green,

Thy sky is ever clear;
Thou hast no sorrow in thy song,
No Winter in thy year!

O could I fly, I'd fly with thee!
We'd make, with joyful wing,
Our annual visit o'er the globe,
Companions of the Spring.

WHEN icicles hang by the wall,
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,
And Tom bears logs into the hall,1

And milk comes frozen home in pail;
When blood is nipt, and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl
Tuwhoo!

Tuwhit! tuwhoo! A merry note!

While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

' hall, wood was then used for fuel.

2 keel, skim.

When all around the wind doth blow,

And coughing drowns the parson's saw,3
And birds sit brooding in the snow,

And Marian's nose looks red and raw;
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl-

Then nightly sings the staring owl
Tuwhoo!

Tuwhit! tuwhoo! A merry note!
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

72

SONG OF THE NIGHT-WATCH.

HARK ye, neighbours! hear the hour!
Ten is tolling from the tower;
Ten commandments God hath sealed,
O may we obedience yield!

All in vain the watchman numbers,

God must watch while Israel slumbers;
By thy mercy and thy might,

Lend us, Lord, a happy night.

Hark ye, neighbours! hear the hour!
Tolls eleven from the tower;

Out of twelve, eleven were true,

O may we prove faithful too!

All in vain the watchman numbers,

God must watch while Israel slumbers;

By thy mercy and thy might,

Lend us, Lord, a happy night.

saw, moral saying.

1 crabs, crab apples.

P

Hark ye, neighbours! hear the hour!
Twelve is tolling from the tower;
Twelve's the limit-man attend,
Think of thine eternal end.

All in vain the watchman numbers,
God must watch while Israel slumbers;
By thy mercy and thy might,

Lend us, Lord, a happy night.

Hark ye, neighbours! hear the hour!
One is striking from the tower;
One thing's needful, God of grace!
May we ever seek thy face;

All in vain the watchman numbers,

God must watch while Israel slumbers; By thy mercy and thy might,

Lend us, Lord, a happy night.

Hark ye, neighbours! hear the hour!
Two is tolling from the tower;

Two ways are before me spread,

O may I the narrow tread!

All in vain the watchman numbers,

God must watch while Israel slumbers;

By thy mercy and thy might,

Lend us, Lord, a happy night.

Hark ye, neighbours! hear the hour
Three is tolling from the tower;
Cultivate the graces three-

Faith, and Hope, and Charity!

All in vain the watchman numbers,

God must watch while Israel slumbers; By thy mercy and thy might,

Lend us, Lord, a happy night.

Hark ye, neighbours! hear the hour;
Four is tolling from the tower;
Fourfold is the gospel field,

Say, doth thine the good fruit yield?

73

THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS.

Ir was the schooner Hesperus

That sailed the wintry sea,

And the skipper had taken his little daughter,

To bear him company.

Blue were her eyes as the fairy flax,
Her cheeks like the dawn of day,

And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds

That ope in the month of May.

The skipper he stood beside the helm,

His pipe was in his mouth,

And he watched how the veering flaw did blow,
The smoke now West, now South.

Then up and spoke an old sailor,
Had sailed the Spanish main,

"I pray thee, put into yonder port,
For I fear a hurricane.