Born with their songs, gone with their toys;
Nor ever is its stillness stirred

By purr of cat, or chirp of bird,
Or mother's twilight legend, told
Of Horner's pie, or Tiddler's gold,
Or fairy hobbling to the door,

Red-cloaked and weird, banned and poor,
To bless the good child's gracious eyes,
The good child's wistful charities,
And crippled changeling's hunch to make
Dance on his crutch, for good child's sake.

How is it with the child? 'Tis well;
Nor would I any
miracle

Might stir my sleeper's tranquil trance,
Or plague his painless countenance:
I would not any seer might place
His staff on my immortal's face,
Or lip to lip, and eye to eye,
Charm back his pale mortality.

No, Shunamite! I would not break

God's stillness. Let them weep who wake.

For Charlie's sake my lot is blest:
No comfort like his mother's breast,
No praise like hers; no charm expressed
In fairest forms hath half her zest.
For Charlie's sake this bird's caressed
That death left lonely in the nest;
For Charlie's sake my heart is dressed,
As for its birthday, in its best;
For Charlie's sake we leave the rest
To Him who gave, and who did take,
And saved us twice, for Charlie's sake.
JOHN WILLIAMSON PALMER.

ALLAN PERCY.

173

IT

Allan Percy.

T was a beauteous lady richly dressed; Around her neck are chains of jewels rare; A velvet mantle shrouds her snowy breast,

And a young child is softly slumbering there.
In her own arms, beneath that glowing sun,

She bears him onward to the greenwood tree.
Is the dun heath, thou fair and thoughtless one,
The place where an earl's son should cradled be?
Lullaby!

Though a proud earl be father to my child,
Yet on the sward my blessèd babe shall lie;
Let the winds lull him with their murmurs wild,
And toss the green boughs upward to the sky.
Well knows the earl how long my spirit pined.
I loved a forester, glad, bold, and free;
And had I wedded as my heart inclined,

My child were cradled 'neath the greenwood tree.
Lullaby!

Slumber thou still, my innocent,

mine own,

While I call back the dreams of other days.

In the deep forest I feel less alone

Than where those palace splendors mock my gaze. Fear not! my arm shall bear thee safely back;

I need no squire, no page with bended knee, To bear my baby through the wildwood track, Where Allan Percy used to roam with me. Lullaby!

Here I can sit; and while the fresh wind blows,
Waving the ringlets of thy shining hair,

Giving thy cheek a deeper tinge of rose,

I can dream dreams that comfort my despair ;

I can make visions of a different home,

Such as we hoped in other days might be ;
There no proud earl's unwelcome footsteps come, -
There, Allan Percy, I am safe with thee!

Thou art mine own,

Lullaby!

I'll bear thee where I list,
Far from the dull, proud tower and donjon-keep;
From my long hair the pearl-chains I'll untwist,
And with a peasant's heart sit down and weep.
Thy glittering 'broidered robe, my precious one,
Changed for a simpler covering shall be ;
And I will dream thee Allan Percy's son,
And think poor Allan guards thy sleep with me.
Lullaby!

CAROLINE NORTON.

Cuddle Doon.

HE bairnies cuddle doon at nicht,

THE

Wi' muckle faucht an' din;

O, try an' sleep, ye waukrife rogues,
Your father's comin' in.

They never heed a word I speak;

I try to gie a froon,

But aye I hap them up, an' cry,
"O bairnies, cuddle doon."

Wee Jamie wi' the curly heid
He aye sleeps next the wa'
Bangs up an' cries, "I want a piece";

The rascal starts them a'.

I rin an' fetch them pieces, drinks,
They stop awee the soun';

Then draw the blankets up an' cry,
"Noo, weanies, cuddle doon."

CUDDLE DOON.

But ere five minutes gang, wee Rab
Cries oot frae 'neath the claes,
"Mither, mak' Tam gie ower at ance
He's kittlin' wi' his taes."

The mischief's in that Tam for tricks,
He 'd bother half the toon:
But aye I hap then up an' cry,
"O bairnies, cuddle doon."

At length they hear their father's fit,
An', as he steeks the door,
They turn their faces to the wa',

While Tam pretends to snore.

"Hae a' the weans been gude?" he asks, As he pits off his shoon;

"The bairnies, John, are in their beds,

An' lang since cuddled doon."

An' just afore we bed oorsel',

We look at oor wee lambs;

Tam has his airm roun' wee Rab's neck,
An' Rab his airm round Tam's.

I lift wee Jamie up the bed,
An' as I straik each croon,

I whisper, till my heart fills up,
"O bairnies, cuddle doon."

The bairnies cuddle doon at nicht,
Wi' mirth that's dear to me;

But sune the big warl's cark an' care

Will quaten doon their glee.

Yet come what will to ilka ane,

May He who sits aboon

Aye whisper, though their pows be bauld,

"O bairnies, cuddle doon."

175

ALEXANDER ANDERSON.

Yet though tight his clothes are made,

He will lose them, I'm afraid,

If to-night

He gets sight

Of the candle-light.