A LAMENT FOR FLODDEN

I 've heard the lilting at our ewe-milking,

Lasses a-lilting before the dawn of day;

But now they are moaning on ilka green loaning— The Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away. 4

At bughts, in the morning, nae blithe lads are scorning,

Lasses are lonely and dowie and wae;

Nae daffing, nae gabbing, but sighing and sabbing,

Ilk ane lifts her leglin and hies her away.

In hairst, at the shearing, nae youths now are jeering,

Bandsters are lyart, and runkled, and gray: At fair or at preaching, nae wooing, nae fleeching

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The Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away. 12

At e'en, at the gloaming, nae swankies are roaming,

'Bout stacks wi' the lasses at bogle to play; But ilk ane sits drearie, lamenting her dearieThe Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away. 16

Dool and wae for the order sent our lads to the Border!

The English, for ance, by guile wan the day; The Flowers of the Forest, that fought aye the foremost,

The prime o' our land, are cauld in the clay. 20

We hear nae mair lilting at our ewe-milking;
Women and bairns are heartless and wae;
Sighing and moaning on ilka green loaning—
The Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away. 24
1755.
Jean Elliot.

WE ARE SEVEN

-A SIMPLE Child,

That lightly draws its breath,
And feels its life in every limb,
What should it know of death?

I met a little cottage Girl:

She was eight years old, she said;
Her hair was thick with many a curl

That clustered round her head.

She had a rustic, woodland air,

And she was wildly clad:

Her eyes were fair, and very fair;
-Her beauty made me glad.

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"Sisters and brothers, little Maid,

How many may you be?" "How many? Seven in all," she said And wondering looked at me.

"And where are they? I pray you tell."
She answered, “Seven are we;
And two of us at Conway dwell,

And two are gone to sea.

"Two of us in the church-yard lie,
My sister and my brother;
And in the church-yard cottage, I
Dwell near them with my mother."

"You say

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that two at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea,

Yet ye are seven!-I pray you tell,
Sweet Maid, how this may be."

Then did the little Maid reply,

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Seven boys and girls are we;

Two of us in the church-yard lie,

Beneath the church-yard tree."

'You run about, my little Maid,

Your limbs they are alive;

If two are in the church-yard laid,
Then ye are only five."

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"Their graves are green, they may be seen,"

The little Maid replied,

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"Twelve steps or more from my mother's door,

And they are side by side.

"My stockings there I often knit,

My kerchief there I hem;
And there upon the ground I sit,
And sing a song to them.

"And often after sunset, Sir,
When it is light and fair,

I take my little porringer,
And eat my supper there.

"The first that died was sister Jane; In bed she moaning lay,

Till God released her of her pain;

And then she went away.

"So in the church-yard she was laid;
And, when the grass was dry,
Together round her grave we played,
My brother John and I.

"And when the ground was white with

snow,

And I could run and slide,

My brother John was forced to go,
And he lies by her side."

"How many are you, then," said I, "If they two are in heaven?"

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Quick was the little Maid's reply, "O Master! we are seven."

"But they are dead; those two are dead! Their spirits are in heaven!"

'T was throwing words away; for still The little Maid would have her will, And said, "Nay, we are seven!"

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1798.

William Wordsworth.

LUCY GRAY

OR, SOLITUDE

OFT I had heard of Lucy Gray:
And, when I crossed the wild,
I chanced to see at break of day
The solitary child.

No mate, no comrade Lucy knew;
She dwelt on a wide moor,

-The sweetest thing that ever grew
Beside a human door!

You yet may spy the fawn at play,

The hare upon the green;

But the sweet face of Lucy Gray
Will never more be seen.

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