With ringing shout and winding horn!

III.

Thy wondrous ride, oh Tam O'Shanter,
To speed like theirs was but a canter;
Had you bestrode that night instead
Of gray mare Meg a thoroughbred
(Such as Kentuckians only breed--
To Scotia then an unknown steed),
No carline could have caught his rump
And left your brute with scarce a stump!

IV.

His foaming horse with throbbing sides
Unslackened yet his pace he rides,
Till in among the yelping hounds
The foremost huntsman proudly bounds,
And sees the leaders of the chase
(Two matchless dogs that set the pace)
O'ertake the game and win the race!
And then dismounts and feels the flush
Of victory as he takes the brush!

V.

O royal sport, befitting kings!
It bids the demon Care take wings,
And the rose's hue to the cheek it brings!
And sweeter music none can hear
Than that which greets the list'ning ear--
By distance mellowed to a key
That breathes divinest harmony--
And wakes the slumbering echoes round--
The winding horn and baying hound!

THE CHARMING GIRL OF SOMERSET.

By magic spell was I entranced
When on me first thy brown eyes glanced,
And sunbeams played at hide and seek
Thro' silken ringlets on thy dimpling cheek,
And like some glorious halo shed
Their radiance o'er thy shapely head--
And seemed as if they loved to dwell
Where'er thy airy footsteps fell!
And in my dreams I see thee now--
The pearly teeth--the arching brow--
The form that mocks the sculptor's art
To add one curve that could impart
More beauty and more witching grace,
Or chisel out a sweeter face!
Blest be the hour when first I met
This charming girl of Somerset!

IN JULY.

I.

Oh, for a deep-shaded spot where the shadows cool
Are hid from the rays of the glaring sun,
And the sparkling waters from a limped pool
O'er the gleaming pebbles in ripples run!

II.

Where the sloping banks are with verdure clad,
And the hoary cliffs with moss o'ergrown,
And the tangled vine and the wildflowers pad
The fallen trunk and the hidden stone!

III.

Where the song that wells from a feathered throat
The echoes repeat again and again,
And the drifted sedge and the bubbles float
O'er the glassy depths of a miniature main!

IV.

Where the willows dip in the edge of the stream,
And sway and nod in the passing breeze,
And a feller could tranquilly rest and dream
Of a howling blizzard and a good hard freeze!

TO J. R. M.

I w