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THE SPINNING-WÁ EEL SONG.

281

Once making a journey

“ 'Tis the sound, mother dear, of the sumine To Santa Maria

wind dying.”
Of Calataveño,

Merrily, cheerily, noisily whirring,
From weary desire

Swings the wheel, spins the reel, while the
Of sleep, down a valley

foot 's stirring; I strayed, where young Rosa Sprightly, and lightly, and airily ringing, I saw, the milk-maiden

Thrills the sweet voice of the young maiden
Of lone Finojosa.

singing.
In a pleasant green meadow,
'Midst roses and grasses,

“What's that noise that I hear at the window, Her herd she was tending:

I wonder?"
With other fair lasses ;

"'T is the little birds chirping the holly-bush So lovely her aspect,

under." I could not suppose her

• What makes you be shoving and moving A simple milk-maiden

your stool on, Of rude Finojosa.

And singing all wrong that old song of “The
I think not primroses

Coolun?'"
Have half her smile's sweetness,

There's a form at the casement~the form of
Or mild, modest beauty ;

her true-loveI speak with discreetness.

And he whispers, with face bent, “ I'm waitOh, had I beforehand

ing for you, love; But known of this Rosa,

Get up on the stool, through the lattice step The lovely milk-maiden

lightly, Of fair Finojosa!

We'll rove in the grove while the moon 's

shining brightly."
Her very great beauty

Merrily, cheerily, noisily whirring,
Had not so subdued,

Swings the wheel, spins the reel, while the
Because it had left me,

foot's stirring;
To do as I would.

Sprightly, and lightly, and airily ringing,
I have said more, O fair one,

Thrills the sweet voice of the young maiden
By learning 't was Rosa,

singing.
The charming milk-maiden
Of sweet Finojosa.

LOPE DE MENDOZA. (Spanish.; The maid shakes her head, on her lip lays Translation of J. H. WIFFEN

her fingers, Steals up from her seat-longs to go, and yet

lingers; THE SPINNING-WHEEL SONG.

A frightened glance turns to her drowsy

grandmother, MELLOW the moonlight to shine is beginning; Puts one foot on the stool, spins the wheel Close by thc window young Eileen is spin

with the other. ning;

Lazily, easily, swings now the wheel round; Bont o'er the fire, her blind grandmother, sit- Slowly and lowly is heard now the reli's ting,

sound; Is croaning, und moaning, and drowsily knit- Noiseless and light to the lattice above her ting-

The maid steps--then leaps to the arms of "Eileen, aclora, I hear some one tapping."

her lover. “'T is the ivy, dear mother, against the glass Slower--and slower—and slower the wlivel flapping."

swings; “Eileen, I surely near solebody sighing." Lower--and lower—and lower the reel rings;

Ere the reel and the wheel stop their ringing

and moving, Through the grove the young lovers by moonlight are roving.

Join FRANCIS WALLER.

And donned her white garment,

Her purest of white;
And her heart with joy trembling,

She rushed to the sight
Of her own faithful knight.

ANONYMOUB. (Gerinan.) Translation of EDGAR TAYLOR.

WATCH SONG.

THE OLD STORY.

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The sun is gone down,

And the moon upward springeth; The night creepeth onward;

The nightingale singeth. To himself said a watchman,

“Is any knight waiting In pain for his lady.

To give her his greeting?

Now, then, for their meeting ! His words heard a knight,

In the garden while roaming: “Ah, watchman!

he said, “Is the daylight fast coming ? And may I not see her,

And wilt not thou aid me?" “Go, wait in thy covert,

Lest the cock crow reveillé,
And the dawn should betray thee."

Then in went that watchman,

And called for the fair; And gently he roused her:

“Rise, lady! prepare! New tidings I bring thee,

And strange to thine ear; Come, rouse thee up quickly

Thy knight tarries near;

Rise, lady! appear!” “Ah, watchman! though purely

The moon shines above, Yet trust not securely

That feigned tale of love. Far, far from my presence

My own knight is straying:
And, sadly repining,

I mourn his long staying,
And weep his delaying.'

He came across the meadow-pass,

That summer eve of eves-
The sunlight streamed along the grass

And glanced amid the leaves;
And from the shrubbery below.

And from the garden trees.
He heard the thrushes' music flow

And humming of the bees ;
The garden gate was swung apart-

The space was brief between;
But there, for throbbing of his heart,

He paused perforce to lean.
He leaned upon the garden-gate;

He looked, and scarce he breathed;
Within the little porch she sate,

With woodbine overwreathed; Her eyes upon her work were bent,

Unconscious who was nigh: But oft the needle slowly went,

And oft did idle lie: And ever to her lips arose

Sweet fragments sweetly sung, But ever, ere the notes could close,

She hushed them on her tongue. Her fancies as they come and go,

Her pure face speaks the while ; For now it is a flitting glow,

And now a breaking smile; And now it is a graver shade,

When holier thoughts are there-
An angel's pinion might be stayed

To see a sight so fair;
But still they hid her looks of light,

Those downcast eyelids pale-
Two lovely clouds, so silken white,

Two lovelier stars that veil.
The sun at length his burning edge

Had rested on the hill,
And, save one thrush from out the hedga

Both bower and grove were still.

• Nay, lady! yet trust me,

No falsehood is there." Then up sprang that lady

And braided her hair,

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“Way weep ye by the tide, ladye

Why weep ye by the tide ? I'll wed ye to my youngest son,

And ye shall be his bride; And ye shall be his bride, ladye

Sae comely to be seen.”But ay she loot the tears down fa?

For Jock of Hazeldean.

“Now let this wilful grief be done,

And dry that cheek so pale; Young Frank is chief of Errington,

And lord of Langley dale : His step is first in peaceful ha',

His sword in battle keen.— But ay she loot the tears down fa'

For Jock of Hazeldean.

Long, long the sun had sunken down,

And all his golden hail
Had died away to lines of brown,

In duskier hues that fail.
The grasshopper was chirping shrill-

No other living sound
Accompanied the tiny rill

That gurgled under ground-
No other living sound, unless

Some spirit bent to hear
Low words of human tenderness

And mingling whispers near.
The stars, like pallid gems at first,

Deep in the liquid sky,
Now forth upon the darkness burst,

Sole kings and lights on high;
For splendor, myriad-fold, supreme,

No rival moonlight strove;
Nor lovelier e'er was Hesper's beam,

Nor more majestic Jove.
But what if hearts there beat that night

That recked not of the skies, Or only felt their imaged light

In one another's eyes?

A chain of gold ye shall not lack,

Nor braid to bind your hair, Nor mettled hound, nor managed hawk,

Nor palfrey fresh and fair; And you the foremost of them a'

Shall ride, our forest queen.”But ay she loot the tears down fa'

For Jock of Hazeldean.

The kirk was decked at morning tide;

The tapers glimmered fair; The priest and bridegroom wait the bride,

And knight and dame are there; They sought her both by bower and ba';

The ladye was not seen.She's o'er the border, and awa' Wi' Jock of Hazeldean.

Sir WALTER SCOTT,

And if two worlds of hidden thought

And longing passion met, Which, passing human language, sought

And found an utterance yet;

it up :

the cup.

had none;

The bride kissed the goblet—the knight took LOOHINVAR.

He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the west;

She looked down to blush, and she looked up Through all the wide border his steed was

to sigh, the best;

With a smile on her lips, and a tear in hel And save his good broad-sword he weapons

eye.

He took her soft hand, ere her mother could He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone.

bar,So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,

“Now tread we a measure !” said young

Lochinvar, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar,

So stately his form, and so lovely her face, He staid not for brake, and he stopped not That never a hall such a galliard did grace; for stone;

While her mother did fret and her father did He swam, the Eske river where ford there fume, was none;

And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonBut, ere he alighted at Netherby gate,

net and plume; The bride had consented, the gallant came And the bride-maidens whispered, " 'T were late:

better by far

To have matched our fair cousin with young For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war,

Lochinvar." Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochin

var.

and scaur ;

One touch to her hand, and one word in bar So boldly he entered the Netherby hall,

ear,

When they reached the hall door and the 'Mong bridesmen, and kinsmen, and broth

charger stood near; ers, and all;

So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on

So light to the saddle before her he sprung ! his sword,

“She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, (For the poor craven bridegroom said never

a word) “Oh come ye in peace here, or come ye in They 'll have fleet steeds that follow,” quoth

young Lochinvar. war, Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar ?"

There was mounting 'mong Græmes of the

Netherby clan;

Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode “I long wooed your daughter, my suit you and they ran : denied

There was racing, and chasing, on Cannobic Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its

Lee, tide

But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they And now I am come, with this lost love of mine,

So daring in love, and su dauntless in war, so lead but one measure, drink one cup of Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young wine;

Lochinvar ? There are maidens in Scotland more lovely

by far, That would gladly be bride to the young

Lochinvar."

see.

SIR WALTEB Sort

LOVE IN THE VALLEY.

286

Often she thinks—were this wild thing LOVE IN THE VALLEY.

wedded,

I should have more love, and miuch less care. UNDER yonder beech-tree standing on the When her mother tends her before the bashgreen sward,

ful mirror, Couched with her arms behind her little head, Loosening her laces, combing down her curls, Uor knees folded up, and her tresses on her Often she thinks—were this wild thing bosom,

wedded, Lies my young love sleeping in the shade. I should lose but one for so many boys and Had I the heart to slide one arm beneath her! girls. Press her dreaming lips as her waist I folded slow,

Clambering roses peep into her chamber; Waking on the instant she could not but em- Jasmine and woodbine breathe sweet, sweet brace me

White-necked swallows, twittering of sumAh! would she hold me, and never let me go? mer,

Fill her with balm and nested peace from Shy as the squirrel, and wayward as the head to feet. swallow;

Ah! will the rose-bough see her lying lonely, Swift as the swallow when, athwart the west. When the petals fall and fierce bloom is on ern food,

the leaves ? Circleting the surface, he meets his mirrored Will the autumn garners see her still un. winglets

gathered, Is that dear one in her maiden bud.

When the fickle swallows forsake the weepShy as the squirrel whose nest is in the pine ing eaves ?

tops; Gentlemah: that she were jealous—as the Comes a sudden question should a strange dove!

hand pluck her! Full of all the wildness of the woodland crea- Oh! what an anguish smites me at the thought! tures,

Should some idle lordling bribe her mind with Happy in herself is the maiden that I love!

jewels

Can such beauty ever thus be bought? What can have taught her distrust of all I tell Sometimes the huntsmen,prancing down the her ?

valley, Can she truly doubt me when looking on my Eye the village lasses, full of sprightly mirth; brows?

They see, as I see, mine is the fairest! Nature never teaches distrust of tender love- Would she were older and could read my tales

worth ! What can have taught her distrust of all my vows?

Are there not sweet maidens, if she still deny No, she does not doubt me! on a dewy eve- me ?

Show the bridal heavens but one bright star? Whispering together beneath the listening Wherefore thus then do I chase a shadow, moon,

Clattering one note like a brown eve-jar? I prayed till her cheek flushed, implored till So I rhyme and reason till she darts before

she faltered Fluttered to my bosom-ah! to fly away so Through the milky meadows from flower to soon!

flower she flies,

Sunning her sweet palms to shade her dazzled When her mother tends her before the laugh- eyelids ing mirror,

From the golden love that looks too eager ir. lying up her laces, looping up her hair,

tide

me

her eyes.

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