But now for gold we plot and plan
And from Beersheba unto Dan,

Apollo's self might pass unheard,

Or find the night-jar's note preferred; Not so it fared, when time began,

With pipe and flute!

Austin Dobson.

THE PIPER

Piping down the valleys wild,
Piping songs of pleasant glee,
On a cloud I saw a child,
And he laughing said to me:

"Pipe a song about a lamb":

So I piped with merry cheer.
"Piper, pipe that song again":
So I piped; he wept to hear.

"Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe,
Sing thy songs of happy cheer":
So I sung the same again,
While he wept with joy to hear.

"Piper, sit thee down and write

In a book that all may read

So he vanished from my sight;
And I plucked a hollow reed,

And I made a rural pen,
And I stained the water clear,
And I wrote my happy songs
Every child may joy to hear.

William Blake.

A MUSIC LESSON

Fingers on the holes, Johnny,

Fairly in a raw:

Lift this and then that,

And blaw, blaw, blaw! That's hoo to play, Johnny, On the pipes sae shrill: Never was the piper yet But needit a' his skill.

And lang and sair he tried it, tae,
Afore he wan the knack

O' making bag and pipe gie
His verra yearnin's back.
The echo tae his heart-strings
Frae sic a thing to come;

Oh, is it no a wonder

Like a voice frae out the dumb?

Tak' tentie, noo, my Johnny lad,

Ye maunna hurry thro',
Tak' time and try it ower again
Sic a blast ye blew !

It's no alane by blawing strang,
But eke by blawing true,

That ye can mak' the music
To thrill folk thro' and thro'.

The waik folk and the learnin',
Tis' them that mak's the din;
But for the finish'd pipers
They count it as a sin:

And maybe it's the verra same

A' the warld thro',

The learners are the verra ones
That mak' the most ado!

Ye ken the Southrons taunt us
I sayna they're unfair —

Aboot oor squallin' music,

And their taunts hae hurt me sair; But if they'd heard a piper true

At nicht come ower the hill,

Playin' up a pibroch

Upon the wind sae still:

Risin' noo, and fallin' noo,
And floatin' on the air,
The sounds come saftly on ye
A'maist ere ye're aware,

And wind themsels aboot the heart,
That hasna yet forgot

The witchery o' love and joy
Within some lanely spot:

I'm sure they wadna taunt us sae,
Nor say the bagpipe's wild,
Nor speak o' screechin' noises
Eneuch to deave a child:

They would say the bagpipe only
Is the voice of hill and glen;
And would listen to it sorrowing,
Within the haunts of men.

Fingers on the holes, Johnny,
Fairly in a raw:

Lift this and then that,

And blaw, blaw, blaw! That's hoo to play, Johnny, On the pipes sae shrill:

Never was the piper yet

But needit a' his skill.

Alexander H. Japp.

ON HEARING A LITTLE MUSICAL

BOX

Dilettevol' suoni

Faceano intorno l'aria tintinnire

D'armonia dolce, e di concenti buoni.

- ARIOSTO.

Hallo! what? where, what can it be
That strikes up so deliciously?
I never in my life - what, no!
That little tin-box playing so?
It really seemed as if a sprite

Had struck among us, swift and light,
And come from some minuter star
To treat us with his pearl guitar.

Hark! it scarcely ends the strain,
But it gives it o'er again,
Lovely thing!-and runs along,
Just as if it knew the song,

Touching out, smooth, clear and small,

Harmony, and shake, and all,

Now upon the treble lingering,

Dancing now as if 'twere fingering,