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The roll, which this reptile's long history records,
“Crawled out of some rubbish, and wink'd
with one eye ; Half opened the other, but could not tell why; Stretch'd out my left leg, as it felt rather queer, Then drew all together and slept for a year. Awaken'd, felt chilly—crept under a stone; · Was vastly contented with living alone, One toe became wedged in the stone, like a peg, Could not get it away—had the cramp in my leg : Began half to wish for a neighbour at hand To loosen the stone, which was fast in the sand ; Pull’d harder, then dozed, as I found 'twas no use; Awoke the next summer, and lo! it was loose. Crawled forth from the stone when completely
awake, Crept into a corner and grinned at a snake. Retreated, and found that I needed repose, Curled up my damp limbs and prepared for a doze; Fell sounder to sleep than was usual before, And did not awake for a century or more ; But had a sweet dream, as I rather believe :Methough it was light, and a fine summer's eve; And I in some garden deliciously fed In the pleasant moist shade of a strawberry bed. There fine speckled creatures claimed kindred with
me, And others that hopp’d, most enchanting to see.
Here long I regaled with emotion extreme;-
It seems that life is all a void,
175.-SONG OF THE STRAWBERRY GIRL, Itis summer! it is summer! how beautiful it looks ; There is sunshine on the grey hills, and sunshine
on the brooks; A singing-bird on every bough, soft perfumes on
the air, A happy smile on each young lip, and gladness
Oh! is it not a pleasant thing to wander through
To the woods,
To look upon the painted flowers, and watch the
opening buds ; Or seated in the cool deep shade, at some tall ash
tree's root, To fill my little basket with the sweet and scented
fruit ? They tell me that my father's poor—that is no
grief to me, When such a blue and brilliant sky my up-turned
eye can see; . They tell me too that richer girls can sport with
toy and gem; It may be so-and yet, methinks, I do not envy
them. When forth I go upon my way, a thousand toys
are mine, The clusters of dark violets, the wreaths of the wild
vine; My jewels are the primrose pale, the bind-weed,
and the rose; And shew me any courtly gem more beautiful than
those. And then the fruit! the glowing fruit, how sweet
the scent it breathes ! I love to see its crimson cheek rest on the bright
green leaves ! Summer's own gift of luxury in which the poor may
share, The wild-wood fruit my eager eye is seeking every
Oh! summer is a pleasant time, with all its sounds
and sights; Its dewy mornings, balmy eves, and tranquil calm
delights; I sigh when first I see the leaves fall yellow on the
plain, And all the winter long I sing—sweet summer come
176.-LOST IN A WOOD.
Could we but hear The folded flocks penn'd in their wattled.cotes, Or sound of pastoral reed  with oaten stops, Or whistle from the lodge, or village cock Count the night watches to his feathery dames, 'Twould be some solace yet, some little cheering In this close dungeon of innumerous  boughs.
177.-THE DOG OF ST. BERNARD'S.
Where holy monks abide,
Though dead to all beside ;
 St. Bernard's a lofty mountain, one of the Alps in Switzerland, on the summit of which is a monastery, whose inmates are accustomed to give hospitable shelter to the weary traveller.
The weary, way-worn traveller
Oft sinks beneath the snow;
No track is left to shew.
A stranger roam'd at night;
His scrip alone was light.
He had not tasted food;
Which way his footsteps trod.
To hail the pilgrim near,
He was too far to hear ;
He had not strength to go.
That night to meet the storm
A human bosom warm.
Had taught the dog  to roam,
To fetch the wanderer home.  The hospitable monks keep a number of wild-looking but sagacious dogs, which they send forth in stormy weather to rescue travellers.