Not blither is the mountain roe: Her feet disperse the powd'ry snow, The storm came on before its time; The wretched parents all that night At daybreak on a hill they stood And thence they saw the bridge of wood They wept, and turning homeward, cried, Half breathless, from the steep hill's edge And then an open field they cross'd—- They follow'd from the snowy bank You yet may spy the fawn at play, Will never more be seen. WORDSWORTH. 70. THE DISSOLUTION OF FRIENDSHIP. A LAS! they had been friends in youth; But whispering tongues can poison truth; And life is thorny; and youth is vain: Doth work like madness in the brain. And insult to his heart's best brother: The marks of that which once hath been. COLERIDGE. 71. THE DREAM OF EUGENE ARAM. WAS in the prime of summer time, And four and twenty happy boys Came bounding out of school: There were some that ran, and some that leapt, Away they sped with gamesome minds, Like sportive deer they coursed about, Turning to mirth all things of earth, His hat was off, his vest apart, To catch heaven's blessed breeze; For a burning thought was in his brow, So he lean'd his head on his hands, and read The book between his knees! Leaf after leaf, he turn'd it o'er, Nor ever glanced aside; For the peace of his soul he read that book In the golden eventide : Much study had made him very lean, And pale, and leaden-eyed. Then, leaping on his feet upright, "My gentle lad, what is't Romance, or fairy fable? Or is it some historic page, Of kings and crowns unstable?" The young boy gave an upward glance, "It is The Death of Abel."" The Usher took six hasty strides, And down he sat beside the lad, And, long since then, of bloody men, He told how murderers walk the earth With crimson clouds before their eyes, And flames about their brain: For blood has left upon their souls "And well," quoth he, "I know, for truth, Their pangs must be extreme, Wo, wo, unutterable wo, Who spill life's sacred stream! For why? Methought, last night, I wrought A murder in a dream! “One that had never done me wrong, A feeble man and old: I led him to a lonely field; The moon shone clear and cold: "Two sudden blows with a ragged stick, "I took the ghastly body up, "Down went the corse with a hollow plunge, And vanish'd in the pool; Anon I cleansed my bloody hands, And wash'd my forehead cool; And sat among the urchins young, |