An hour ago the storm was here, So will our joys and grief appear, Grief will be joy if on its edge Keble. 17.-BIRDS' NESTS. Some to the holly hedge, Nestling repair, and to the thicket some; Their food its insects, and its moss their nests. Or roughening waste, their humble texture weave, In unfrequented glooms, or shaggy banks, Whose murmurs soothe them all the livelong day, Of herds and flocks, a thousand tugging bills Thomson. 18. JOHN BARLEYCORN. THERE went three kings into the East, And they hae sworn a solemn oath John Barleycorn should die. They took a plough and ploughed him down, Put clods upon his head, And they hae sworn a solemn oath, John Barleycorn was dead. But the cheerful spring came kindly on, And showers began to fall; John Barleycorn got up again, And sore surprised them all. The sultry suns of summer came, And he grew thick and strong, His head well armed wi' pointed spears, The sober autumn entered mild, When he grew wan and pale; His bending joints and drooping head Show'd he began to fail. His colour sickened more and more, He faded into age; And then his enemies began To show their deadly rage. They've ta'en a weapon long and sharp, And tied him fast upon the cart, Like a rogue for forgerie. They laid him down upon his back, They hung him up before the storm, They filled up a darksome pit They heaved in John Barleycorn, They laid him out upon the floor, They wasted, o'er a scorching flame, But a miller used him worst of all, For he crush'd him between two stones. And they hae ta'en his very heart's blood, And still the more and more they drank, John Barleycorn was a hero bold, For if you do but taste his blood, "Twill make your courage rise. Then let us toast John Barleycorn, Old Ballad. 19. THE RAVEN AND THE OAK. UNDERNEATH an old oak tree There was of swine a huge company, That grunted as they crunch'd the mast: For that was ripe and fell full fast. Then they trotted away, for the wind it grew high: One acorn they left and no more might you spy. Next came a raven that liked not such folly; He belonged, they did say, to the witch Melancholy! Flew low in the rain and his feathers got wet. By the side of a river both deep and great. Where then did the raven go? Over hill, over dale, did the black raven go. I can't tell half his adventures. At length he came back, and with him a she, At length he brought down the poor raven's old oak. They sawed it in planks, and its bark they did strip, 20. THE WHITE SQUALL. ON deck, beneath the awning, I dozing lay and yawning; It was the grey of dawning, And above the funnel's roaring, I could hear the passengers snorting, Vainly I was courting The pleasure of a doze. So I lay, and wondered why light And the dull glimpse of the dead eye, |