While yet her cheek was bright with summer bloom,

Her country summoned and she gave her all;

And twice War bowed to her his sable plume,

Regave the swords to rust upon her wall.

Regave the swords, - but not the hand that drew

And struck for Liberty its dying blow, Nor him who, to his sire and country true, Fell mid the ranks of the invading foe.

Long, but not loud, the droning wheel

went on,

Like the low murmur of a hive at noon; Long, but not loud, the memory of the gone Breathed through her lips a sad and tremulous tune.

At last the thread was snapped: her head was bowed;

Life dropt the distaff through his hands

serene;

And loving neighbors smoothed her careful shroud,

While death and winter closed the autumn scene.

JEAN INGELOW.

LINCOLNSHIRE.

(1571.)

THE old mayor climbed the belfry tower, The ringers ran by two, by three; "Pull, if ye never pulled before;

Good ringers, pull your best, "quoth he. "Play uppe, play uppe, O Boston bells! Ply all your changes, all your swells, Play uppe The Brides of Enderby.'

Men say it was a stolen tyde

The Lord that sent it, he knows all; But in myne ears doth still abide

The message that the bells let fall: And there was naught of strange, beside The flights of mews and peewits pied By millions crouched on the old sea

wall.

Swift as an arrowe, sharp and strong; And all the aire it seemeth me Bin full of floating bells (sayth shee), That ring the tune of Enderby.

Alle fresh the level pasture lay,

And not a shadowe mote be seene, Save where full fyve good miles away

The steeple towered from out the greene.
And lo! the great bell farre and wide
Was heard in all the country side
That Saturday at eventide.

The swannerds where their sedges are
Moved on in sunset's golden breath,
The shepherde lads I heard afarre,

And my sonne's wife, Elizabeth;
Till floating o'er the grassy sea
Came downe that kyndly message free,
The " Brides of Mavis Enderby."

Then some looked uppe into the sky,
And all along where Lindis flows
To where the goodly vessels lie,

And where the lordly steeple shows. They sayde, "And why should this thing be,

What danger lowers by land or sea?
They ring the tune of Enderby!

"For evil news from Mablethorpe,
Of pyrate galleys warping down;
For shippes ashore beyond the scorpe,
They have not spared to wake the
towne;

But while the west bin red to see,
And storms be none, and pyrates flee,
Why ring The Brides of Enderby'?"

I looked without, and lo! my sonne
Came riding downe with might and

main,

He raised a shout as he drew on,

Till all the welkin rang again, "Elizabeth! Elizabeth!

(A sweeter woman ne'er drew breath Than my sonne's wife, Elizabeth.)

281

And didst thou visit him no more? Thou didst, thou didst, my daughter deare;

The waters laid thee at his doore,

Ere yet the early dawn was clear. The pretty bairns in fast embrace, The lifted sun shone on thy face, Downe drifted to thy dwelling-place.

That flow strewed wrecks about the grass, That ebbe swept out the flocks to sea; A fatal ebbe and flow, alas!

To manye more than myne and me: But each will mourn his own (she saith). And sweeter woman ne'er drew breath Than my sonne's wife, Elizabeth.

mother's own lasses,

Eager to gather them all.

For it is but short:

My boat you shall find none fairer afloat, In river or port.

Long I looked out for the lad she bore,

On the open desolate sea,

And I think he sailed to the heavenly shore,

For he came not back to me

Ah me!

A song of a nest :There was once a nest in a hollow; Down in the mosses and knot-grass pressed,

Soft and warm and full to the brim.
Vetches leaned over it purple and dim,
With buttercup-buds to follow.

I pray you hear my song of a nest,
For it is not long:

You shall never light in a summer quest
The bushes among,