But all he could do he grew thinner and thinner, Though he eat and drank as much as ten men for his dinner. Some said he had a wolf, in his stomach day and night, Some said he had the devil, and they guess'd right; The fairy skipp'd about in his glory, joy, and pride, And he laugh'd at the devil till poor John Brown died. Then the fairy skipp'd out of the old nutshell, I WILLIAM BOND. WONDER whether the girls are mad, And I wonder whether they mean to kill, And I wonder if William Bond will die, He went to church in a May morning, He went not out to the field nor fold, He went not out to the village nor town, But he came home in a black black cloud, And took to his bed, and there lay down. And an angel of Providence at his feet, And in the midst the sick man on his bed. And on his right hand was Mary Green, "William, if thou dost another love, "Yes, Mary, I do another love, Another I love far better than thee, And another I will have for my wife; Then what have I to do with thee? "For thou art melancholy pale, And on thy head is the cold moon's shine, But she is ruddy and bright as day, And the sunbeams dazzle from her eyne." Mary trembled and Mary chill'd, And Mary fell down on the right-hand floor, That William Bond and his sister Jane Scarce could recover Mary more. When Mary woke and found her laid And saw her William Bond so near, The fairies that fled from William Bond They danced over the pillow white, And the angels of Providence left the bed. "I thought Love lived in the hot sunshine, "Seek Love in the pity of others' woe, In the gentle relief of another's care, In the darkness of night and the winter's snow, In the naked and outcast, seek Love there." SONG BY A SHEPHERD. W ELCOME, stranger, to this place, Paleness flies from every face; W SONG BY AN OLD SHEPHERD. 'HEN silver snow decks Sylvia's clothes, We can abide life's pelting storm, * That makes our limbs quake, if our hearts be warm. Whilst Virtue is our walking-staff, And Truth a lantern to our path, We can abide life's pelting storm, That makes our limbs quake, if our hearts be warm. Blow, boisterous wind, stern Winter frown, So clad, we'll abide life's pelting storm, That makes our limbs quake, if our hearts be warm. * See the opening lines of Blindman's Buff (in the "Poetical Sketches.")-ED. FROM JERUSALEM (1804). TH TO THE JEWS. HE fields from Islington to Marybone, To Primrose-hill and St. John's-wood; Were builded over with pillars of gold, And there Jerusalem's pillars stood. Her little ones ran on the fields, The Lamb of God among them seen, And fair Jerusalem his Bride, Among the little meadows green. Pancras and Kentish-town repose Among her golden pillars high; The Jews-harp-house and the Green Man, The ponds where boys to bathe delight, The fields of cows by Willan's farm, Shine in Jerusalem's pleasant sight. She walks upon her meadows green; The Lamb of God walks by her side: And every English child is seen, Children of Jesus and his Bride. |