*Merrily rose the lark, and shook I never heard it sing: For I was stooping once again Under the horrid thing. "With breathless speed, like a scul in chase. I took him up and ran;— There was no time to dig a grave Before the day began: In a lonesome wood, with heaps of leaves, "And all that day I read in school. And a mighty wind had swept the leaves, "Then down I cast me on my face, For I knew my secret then was one Or land or sea, though he should be "So wills the fierce avenging Sprite, And trodden down with stones, And years have rotted off his flesh,- The world shall see his bones! "Oh, God! that horrid, horrid dream The human life I take; And my red right hand grows raging hoi 66 And still no peace for the restless clay The horrid thing pursues my soul,— That very night, while gentle sleep Two stern-faced men set out from Lynn. THE SEA-SPELL "Cauld, cauld, he lies beneath the deep." I. It was a jolly mariner ! The tallest man of three, Cld Scotch Ballad. He loosed his sail against the wind, 半 II. But still that jolly mariner Took in no reef at all, For, in his pouch, confidingly, A thing, as gossip-nurses know, III. His hat was knew, or, newly glazed. Shone brightly in the sun; His jacket, like a mariner's, True blue as e'er was spun ; His ample trowsers, like Saint Paul, Bore forty stripes save one. IV. And now the fretting foaming tide The bounding pinnance play'd a game Of dreary pitch and toss ; A game that, on the good dry land, V. Good Heaven befriend that little boat, And guide her on her way! A boat, they say, has canvas wings, But cannot fly away! Though, like a merry singing-bird, She sits upon the spray! VI. Still east by south the little boat, With tawny sail, kept beating: |