Stay, stay, Until the hastening day But to the even-song; And having prayed together, we We have short time to stay, as you; As your hours do; and dry Like to the summer's rain, Or as the pearls of morning dew, R. Herrick CIII THE HOMES OF ENGLAND The stately homes of England! O'er all the pleasant land! The deer across their greensward bound And the swan glides by them with the sound The merry homes of England! What gladsome looks of household love How softly on their bowers Is laid the holy quietness That breathes from sabbath hours! The cottage homes of England! By thousands on her plains They are smiling o'er the silvery brooks, And fearless there the lowly sleep, The free, fair homes of England! Where first the child's glad spirit loves F. Hemans Р CIV MARY THE MAID OF THE INN Who is yonder poor maniac, whose wildly fixed eyes She weeps not, yet often and deeply she sighs; No pity she looks for, no alms doth she seek ; On that wither'd breast, and her weather-worn cheek Yet cheerful and happy, nor distant the day, The traveller remembers who journey'd this way As Mary, the Maid of the Inn. Her cheerful address fill'd the guests with deligl.t She loved, and young Richard had settled the day, But Richard was idle and worthless, and they 'Twas in autumn, and stormy and dark was the night, And fast were the windows and door; Two guests sat enjoying the fire that burnt bright, And, smoking in silence with tranquil delight, They listen'd to hear the wind roar. "'Tis pleasant,' cried one, ‘seated by the fireside To hear the wind whistle without.' 'What a night for the Abbey!' his comrade replied, 'Methinks a man's courage would now be well tried, Who should wander the ruins about. 'I myself, like a schoolboy, should tremble to hear The hoarse ivy shake over my head; And could fancy I saw, half persuaded by fear, 'I'll wager a dinner,' the other one cried, 'Will Mary this charge on her courage allow?' His companion exclaimed with a smile; 'I shall win-for I know she will venture there now And earn a new bonnet by bringing a bough From the elder that grows in the aisle.' With fearless good-humour did Mary comply, 212 And as hollowly howling it swept through the sky, She shiver'd with cold as she went. O'er the path so well known still proceeded the maid, All around her was silent save when the rude blast Howl'd dismally round the old pile ; Over weed-cover'd fragments she fearlessly passed, And arrived at the innermost ruin at last, Where the elder-tree grew in the aisle. Well pleas'd did she reach it, and quickly drew near, And hastily gather'd the bough; When the sound of a voice seem'd to rise on her ear, She paus'd, and she listen'd intently, in fear, And her heart panted painfully now. The wind blew, the hoarse ivy shook over her head, She listen'd, nought else could she hear; The wind fell; her heart sunk in her bosom with dread, For she heard in the ruins distinctly the tread Of footsteps approaching her near. Behind a wide column half breathless with fear She crept to conceal herself there : That instant the moon o'er a dark cloud shone clear, And she saw in the moonlight two ruffians appear, And between them a corpse they did bear. |