. . . . . . . Holland

The Battle of the Lake Regillus . . . . . . . . Macaulay

The Vision of Sir Launfal . . . . . . . . . . . . Lowell

The Builders . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Longfellow

British Freedom . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Wordsworth

The Courtship of Miles Standish . . . . . . . . Longfellow

Sohrab and Rustum . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Arnold

NARRATIVE AND LYRIC POEMS

THE MEETING OF THE WATERS.

There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet
As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet!
Oh! the last rays of feeling and life must depart
Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart.

Yet it _was_ not that nature had shed o'er the scene 5
Her purest of crystal and brightest of green;
'Twas _not_ the soft magic of streamlet or hill,
Oh! no--it was something more exquisite still.

'Twas that friends, the beloved of my bosom, were near,
Who made every dear scene of enchantment more dear, 10
And who felt how the best charms of nature improve,
When we see them reflected from looks that we love.

Sweet vale of Avoca![1] how calm could I rest
In thy bosom of shade with the friends I love best,
Where the storms that we feel in this cold world should cease, 15
And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace!

--_Moore_.

[1] Avoca. A valley and river in the County of Wicklow, Ireland. The
name signifies "The Meeting of the Waters."

JOCK O' HAZELDEAN.

"Why weep ye by the tide, ladie?
Why weep ye by the tide?
I'll wed ye to my youngest son,
And ye sall[1] be his bride:
And ye sall be his bride, ladie, 5
Sae comely to be seen"--
But aye she loot[2] the tears down fa'
For Jock o' Hazeldean.

"Now let this wilfu' grief be done,
And dry that cheek so pale; 10
Young Frank is chief of Errington,
And lord of Langley-dale;
His step is first in peaceful ha',
His sword in battle keen"--
But aye she loot the tears down fa' 15
For Jock o' Hazeldean.

"A chain of gold ye sall not lack,
Nor braid to bind your hair;
Nor mettled hound, nor managed[3] hawk,
Nor palfrey fresh and fair; 20
And you, the foremost o' them a'
Shall ride our forest-queen"--
But aye she loot the tears down fa'
For Jock o' Hazeldean.

The kirk was deck'd