Away the seven fair Campbells fly,

And, over Hill and Hollow,

With menace proud, and insult loud,

The youthful Rovers follow.

Cried they, "Your Father loves to roam :

Enough for him to find

The empty House when he comes home;

For us your yellow ringlets comb,

For us be fair and kind!"

Sing, mournfully, oh! mournfully,

The Solitude of Binnorie.

Some close behind, some side by side,

Like clouds in stormy weather,

They run, and cry, "Nay let us die,

And let us die together."

A Lake was near; the shore was steep;

There never foot had been;

They ran, and with a desperate leap
Together plunged into the deep,

Nor ever more were seen.

Sing, mournfully, oh! mournfully,

The Solitude of Binnorie.

The Stream that flows out of the Lake,
As through the glen it rambles,
Repeats a moan o'er moss and stone,
For those seven lovely Campbells.
Seven little Islands, green and bare,
Have risen from out the deep:

The Fishers say, those Sisters fair
By Faeries are all buried there,
And there together sleep.

Sing, mournfully, oh! mournfully,
The Solitude of Binnorie.

XVII.

"-Pleasure is spread through the earth

In stray gifts to be claim'd by whoever shall find."

By their floating Mill,

Which lies dead and still,

Behold yon Prisoners three!

The Miller with two Dames, on the breast of the Thames; The Platform is small, but there's room for them all; And they're dancing merrily.

From the shore come the notes

To their Mill where it floats,

To their House and their Mill tethered fast;

To the small wooden Isle where their work to beguile
They from morning to even take whatever is given;-
And many a blithe day they have past.

In sight of the Spires

All alive with the fires

Of the Sun going down to his rest,

In the broad open eye of the solitary sky,

They dance, there are three, as jocund as free,

While they dance on the calm river's breast.

Man and Maidens wheel,

They themselves make the Reel,

And their Music's a prey which they seize;

It plays not for them,—what matter! 'tis theirs
And if they had care it has scattered their cares,
While they dance, crying, "Long as ye please!"

They dance not for me,

Yet mine is their glee!

Thus pleasure is spread through the earth

;

In stray gifts to be claimed by whoever shall find;
Thus a rich loving-kindness, redundantly kind,
Moves all nature to gladness and mirth,

The Showers of the Spring

Rouze the Birds, and they sing;

If the Wind do but stir for his proper delight,

Each Leaf, that and this, his neighbour will kiss;
Each Wave, one and t'other, speeds after his Brother;
They are happy, for that is their right!

XVIII.

THE KITTEN,

AND

THE FALLING LEAVES.

THAT way look, my Infant, lo!

What a pretty baby show!

See the Kitten on the Wall,

Sporting with the leaves that fall,

Withered leaves-one-two-and three

From the lofty Elder-tree!

Through the calm and frosty air
Of this morning bright and fair
Eddying round and round they sink
Softly, slowly: one might think,
From the motions that are made,

Every little leaf convey'd

Sylph or Faery hither tending,—
To this lower world descending,

Each invisible and mute,

In his wavering parachute.