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WHEN THE KYE COMES HAME.

COME, all ye jolly shepherds

That whistle through the glen,

I'll tell ye of a secret

That courtiers dinna ken: What is the greatest bliss

That the tongue o' man can name ?

"T is to woo a bonny lassie

When the kye comes hame!
When the kye comes hame,
When the kye comes hame,
'Tween the gloaming and the mirk,
When the kye comes hame!

'T is not beneath the coronet,
Nor canopy of state,
"T is not on couch of velvet,

Nor arbor of the great,

"T is beneath the spreading birk,
In the glen without the name,
Wi' a bonny, bonny lassie,
When the kye comes hame!

When the kye comes hame, etc.
There the blackbird bigs his nest
For the mate he loes to see,
And on the topmost bough,
O, a happy bird is he;

Where he pours his melting ditty,

And love is a' the theme, And he'll woo his bonny lassie When the kye comes hame! When the kye comes hame, etc.

When the blewart bears a pearl,
And the daisy turns a pea,
And the bonny lucken gowan
Has fauldit up her ee,

Then the laverock frae the blue lift
Doops down, an' thinks nae shame
To woo his bonny lassie

When the kye comes hame!
When the kye comes hame, etc.

See yonder pawkie shepherd,
That lingers on the hill,

His ewes are in the fauld,

An' his lambs are lying still; Yet he downa gang to bed,

For his heart is in a flame,

To meet his bonny lassie
When the kye comes hame!
When the kye comes hame, etc.

When the little wee bit heart Rises high in the breast, An' the little wee bit starn Rises red in the east,

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"Didst look last night upon my native vales, Thou Sun! that from the drenching sea hast

clomb?

Ye demon winds! that glut my gaping sails,
Upon the salt sea must I ever roam,
Wander forever on the barren foam?

Ọ, happy are ye, resting mariners!

ATALANTA'S RACE.

FROM "THE EARTHLY PARADISE."

ATALANTA VICTORIOUS.

AND there two runners did the sign abide Foot set to foot, - a young man slim and fair, Crisp-haired, well knit, with firm limbs often tried

O Death, that thou wouldst come and take me In places where no man his strength may spare ;

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"Ye winds! when like a curse ye drove us on,
Frothing the waters, and along our way,
Nor cape nor headland through red mornings
shone,

One wept aloud, one shuddered down to pray,
One howled, Upon the deep we are astray.'
On our wild hearts his words fell like a blight:
In one short hour my hair was stricken gray,
For all the crew sank ghastly in my sight
As we went driving on through the cold starry
night.

"Madness fell on me in my loneliness,

The sea foamed curses, and the reeling sky
Became a dreadful face which did oppress
Me with the weight of its unwinking eye.
It fled, when I burst forth into a cry,

A shoal of fiends came on me from the deep;
I hid, but in all corners they did pry,

Dainty his thin coat was, and on his hair
A golden circlet of renown he wore,
And in his hand an olive garland bore.

But on this day with whom shall he contend?
A maid stood by him like Diana clad
When in the woods she lists her bow to bend,
Too fair for one to look on and be glad,
Who scarcely yet has thirty summers had,
If he must still behold her from afar ;
Too fair to let the world live free from war.

She seemed all earthly matters to forget;
Of all tormenting lines her face was clear,
Her wide gray eyes upon the goal were set
Calm and unmoved as though no soul were near ;
But her foe trembled as a man in fear,

Nor from her loveliness one moment turned
His anxious face with fierce desire that burned.

Now through the hush there broke the trum

pet's clang

Just as the setting sun made eventide.

Then from light feet a spurt of dust there sprang,

And dragged me forth, and round did dance and And swiftly were they running side by side; leap;

But silent did the thronging folk abide

They mouthed on me in dream, and tore me Until the turning-post was reached at last,

from sweet sleep.

"Strange constellations burned above my head, Strange birds around the vessel shrieked and flew, Strange shapes, like shadows, through the clear sea fled,

And round about it still abreast they passed.

But when the people saw how close they ran, When half-way to the starting-point they were, A cry of joy broke forth, whereat the man Headed the white-foot runner, and drew near

As our lone ship, wide-winged, came rippling Unto the very end of all his fear;

through,

Angering to foam the smooth and sleeping blue."
The lady sighed, "Far, far upon the sea,
My own Sir Arthur, could I die with you!
The wind blows shrill between my love and me."
Fond heart! the space between was but the apple.

tree.

There was a cry of joy; with seeking hands
She fled to him, like worn bird to her nest;
Like washing water on the figured sands,
His being came and went in sweet unrest,
As from the mighty shelter of his breast
The Lady Barbara her head uprears
With a wan smile, "Methinks I'm but half blest:
Now when I've found thee, after weary years,
I cannot see thee, love! so blind I am with tears."

ALEXANDER SMITH.

And scarce his straining feet the ground could feel, And bliss unhoped for o'er his heart 'gan steal.

But midst the loud victorious shouts he heard

Her footsteps drawing nearer, and the sound
Of fluttering raiment, and thereat afeard
His flushed and eager face he turned around,
And even then he felt her past him bound
Fleet as the wind, but scarcely saw her there
Till on the goal she laid her fingers fair.

There stood she breathing like a little child
Amid some warlike clamor laid asleep,
For no victorious joy her red lips smiled,
Her cheek its wonted freshness did but keep;
No glance lit up her clear gray eyes and deep,
Though some divine thought softened all her face
As once more rang the trumpet through the place.

But her late foe stopped short amidst his course,
One moment gazed upon her piteously,
Then with a groan his lingering feet did force
To leave the spot whence he her eyes could see;
And, changed like one who knows his time must be
But short and bitter, without any word
He knelt before the bearer of the sword;

But while she seemed to hear her beating heart, Above their heads the trumpet blast rang out, And forth they sprang; and she must play her part;

Then flew her white feet, knowing not a doubt, Though slackening once, she turned her head about,

But then she cried aloud and faster fled

Then high rose up the gleaming deadly blade, Than e'er before, and all men deemed him dead. Bared of its flowers, and through the crowded place Was silence now, and midst of it the maid Went by the poor wretch at a gentle pace, And he to hers upturned his sad white face; Nor did his eyes behold another sight Ere on his soul there fell eternal night.

ATALANTA CONQUERED.

Now has the lingering month at last gone by,
Again are all folk round the running place,
Nor other seems the dismal pageantry
Than heretofore, but that another face
Looks o'er the smooth course ready for the race;
For now, beheld of all, Milanion

Stands on the spot he twice has looked upon.

But yet - what change is this that holds the

maid?

Does she indeed see in his glittering eye
More than disdain of the sharp shearing blade,
Some happy hope of help and victory?
The others seemed to say, "We come to die,
Look down upon us for a little while,
That dead, we may bethink us of thy smile."

But he - what look of mastery was this
He cast on her? why were his lips so red?
Why was his face so flushed with happiness?
So looks not one who deems himself but dead,
E'en if to death he bows a willing head;
So rather looks a god well pleased to find
Some earthly damsel fashioned to his mind.

Why must she drop her lids before his gaze,
And even as she casts adown her eyes
Redden to note his eager glance of praise,
And wish that she were clad in other guise?
Why must the memory to her heart arise
Of things unnoticed when they first were heard,
Some lover's song, some answering maiden's word?

What makes these longings, vague, without a

name,

And this vain pity never felt before,
This sudden languor, this contempt of fame,
This tender sorrow for the time past o'er,

But with no sound he raised aloft his hand,
And thence what seemed a ray of light there flew
And past the maid rolled on along the sand;
Then trembling she her feet together drew,
And in her heart a strong desire there grew
To have the toy; some god she thought had
given

That gift to her, to make of earth a heaven.

Then from the course with eager steps she ran,
And in her odorous bosom laid the gold.
But when she turned again, the great-limbed

man

Now well ahead she failed not to behold,
And mindful of her glory waxing cold,
Sprang up and followed him in hot pursuit,
Though with one haud she touched the golden
fruit.

Note, too, the bow that she was wont to bear
She laid aside to grasp the glittering prize,
And o'er her shoulder from the quiver fair
Three arrows fell and lay before her eyes
Unnoticed, as amidst the people's cries
She sprang to head the strong Milanion,
Who now the turning-post had wellnigh won.

But as he set his mighty hand on it,
White fingers underneath his own were laid,
And white limbs from his dazzled eyes did flit.
Then he the second fruit cast by the maid;
But she ran on awhile, then as afraid
Wavered and stopped, and turned and made no
stay

Until the globe with its bright fellow lay.

Then, as a troubled glance she cast around,
Now far ahead the Argive could she see,
And in her garment's hem one hand she wound
To keep the double prize, and strenuously
Sped o'er the course, and little doubt had she
To win the day, though now but scanty space
Was left betwixt him and the winning place.

Short was the way unto such winged feet,

These doubts that grow each minute more and Quickly she gained upon him till at last

more?

Why does she tremble as the time grows near,
And weak defeat and woful victory fear?

He turned about her eager eyes to meet,
And from his hand the third fair apple cast.
She wavered not, but turned and ran so fast

After the prize that should her bliss fulfil,
That in her hand it lay ere it was still.

Nor did she rest, but turned about to win
Once more, an unblest, woful victory –

And yet and yet why does her breath begin
To fail her, and her feet drag heavily?
Why fails she now to see if far or nigh

"It wearies me, mine enemy, that I must weep and bear

What fills thy heart with triumph, and fills my own with care.

Thou art leagued with those that hate me, ah! thou know'st I feel

and

That cruel words as surely kill as sharpest blades of steel.

The goal is? Why do her gray eyes grow dim?'T was the doubt that thou wert false that wrung Why do these tremors run through every limb?

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That what thou didst to win my love, for love of me was done.

Alas! if they but knew thee, as mine it is to know,

thine arrows go;

my heart with pain;

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'TIS sweet to hear, At midnight on the blue and moonlit deep, The song and oar of Adria's gondolier,

By distance mellowed, o'er the waters sweep; 'Tis sweet to see the evening star appear;

'T is sweet to listen as the night-winds creep From leaf to leaf; 't is sweet to view on high The rainbow, based on ocean, span the sky.

'Tis sweet to hear the watch-dog's honest bark Bay deep-mouthed welcome as we draw near home;

They well might see another mark to which 'Tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark
Our coming, and look brighter when we come;
But thou giv'st little heed, for I speak to one 'Tis sweet to be awakened by the lark,
Or lulled by falling waters; sweet the hum

who knows

That she who chides her lover forgives him ere Of bees, the voice of girls, the song of birds, The lisp of children, and their carliest words.

he goes.

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She, rosy in the morning light,
Among the water-daisies white,

Like some fair sloop appeared to sail.

Against her ankles as she trod
The lucky buttercups did nod:

I leaned upon the gate to see.

The sweet thing looked, but did not speak ; A dimple came in either cheek,

And all my heart was gone from me.

Then, as I lingered on the gate, And she came up like coming fate,

I saw my picture in her eyes,
Clear dancing eyes, more black than sloes!
Cheeks like the mountain pink, that grows
Among white-headed majesties!

I said, "A tale was made of old
That I would fain to thee unfold.

Ah! let me, let me tell the tale."
But high she held her comely head:
"I cannot heed it now," she said,
"For carrying of the milking-pail.”

She laughed. What good to make ado?
I held the gate, and she came through,
And took her homeward path anon.
From the clear pool her face had fled;
It rested on my heart instead,

Reflected when the maid was gone.

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