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THE WATERFALL AND THE EGLANTINE.
"BEGONE, thou fond presumptuous Elf,"
Exclaimed a thundering Voice,
"Nor dare to thrust thy foolish self
A small cascade fresh swoln with snows
"Dost thou presume my course to block?
Off, off! or, puny Thing!
I'll hurl thee headlong with the rock
To which thy fibres cling."
The Flood was tyrannous and strong`;
The patient Briar suffered long,
Nor did he utter groan or sigh,
"Ah!" said the Briar, "blame me not;
You stirred me on my rocky bed
What pleasure through my veins you spread!
That did your cares repay.
"When Spring came on with bud and bell, Among these rocks did I
Before you hang my wreaths, to tell
That gentle days were nigh!
And, in the sultry summer hours,
I sheltered you with leaves and flowers; leaves now shed and gone,
The Linnet lodged, and for us two
"But now proud thoughts are in
What grief is mine you see.
Ah! would you think, even yet how blest
Though of both leaf and flower bereft,
Rich store of scarlet hips is mine,
What more he said I cannot tell.
I listened, nor aught else could hear;
THE OAK AND THE BROOM.
His simple truths did Andrew glean
A careful student he had been
Among the woods and hills.
One winter's night, when through the Trees
"I saw a crag, a lofty stone
As ever tempest beat!
Out of its head an Oak had grown,
A Broom out of its feet.
The time was March, a cheerful noon-
This Oak, a giant and a sage,
Eight weary weeks, through rock and clay, Along this mountain's edge,
The Frost hath wrought both night and day,
Wedge driving after wedge.
You are preparing, as before,