lung up his crown,
All back a-laughen in a roar.
They prais'd his wife, an' she look'd down
A-simperen towards the vloor.
Then up they sprung a-dancen reels,
An' up went tooes, an' up went heels,
A-winden roun' in knots an' wheels.
"Brisk, brisk,"--the maidens cried;
"Frisk, frisk,"--the men replied;
"Quick, quick,--there wi' your fiddle-stick,"
Cried merry Bleaeke o' Blackmwore.

An' when the morrow's zun did sheen,
John Bleaeke beheld, wi' jay an' pride,
His bricken house, an' pworch, an' green,
Above the Stour's rushy zide.
The zwallows left the lwonesome groves,
To build below the thatchen oves,
An' robins come vor crumbs o' lwoaves:
"Tweet, tweet,"--the birds all cried;
"Sweet, sweet,"--John's wife replied;
"Dad, dad,"--the childern cried so glad,
To merry Bleaeke o' Blackmwore.

JOHN BLEAeKE AT HWOME AT NIGHT.

No: where the woak do overspread,
The grass begloom'd below his head,
An' water, under bowen zedge,
A-springen vrom the river's edge,
Do ripple, as the win' do blow,
An' sparkle, as the sky do glow;
An' grey-leav'd withy-boughs do cool,
Wi' darksome sheaedes, the clear-feaeced pool,
My chimny smoke, 'ithin the lew
O' trees is there arisen blue;
Avore the night do dim our zight,
Or candle-light, a-sheenen bright,
Do sparkle drough the window.

When crumpled leaves o' Fall do bound
Avore the wind, along the ground,
An' wither'd bennet-stems do stand
A-quiv'ren on the chilly land;
The while the zun, wi' zetten rim,
Do leaeve the workman's pathway dim;
An' sweet-breath'd childern's hangen heads
Be laid wi' kisses, on their beds;
Then I do seek my woodland nest,
An' zit bezide my vier at rest,
While night's a-spread, where day's a-vled,
An' lights do shed their beams o' red,
A-sparklen drough the window.

If winter's whistlen winds do vreeze
The snow a-gather'd on the trees,
An' sheaedes o' poplar stems do vall
In moonlight up athirt the wall;
An' icicles do hang below
The oves, a-glitt'ren in a row,
An' risen stars do slowly ride
Above the ruf's upslanten zide;
Then I do lay my weary head
Asleep upon my peaceful bed,
When middle-night ha' quench'd the light
Ov embers bright, an' candles white
A-beamen drough the window.

MILKEN TIME.

'Twer when the busy birds did vlee,
Wi' sheenen wings, vrom tree to tree,
To build upon the mossy lim',