u;
But they'd hold woone another dear,
If woone o' them wer John o' Weer,
An' tother William Wellburn.

FIFEHEAD.

'Twer where my fondest thoughts do light,
At Fifehead, while we spent the night;
The millwheel's resten rim wer dry,
An' houn's held up their evenen cry;
An' lofty, drough the midnight sky,
Above the vo'k, wi' heavy heads,
Asleep upon their darksome beds,
The stars wer all awake, John.

Noo birds o' day wer out to spread
Their wings above the gully's bed,
An' darkness roun' the elem-tree
'D a-still'd the charmy childern's glee.
All he'ths wer cwold but woone, where we
Wer gay, 'tis true, but gay an' wise,
An' laugh'd in light o' maiden's eyes,
That glissen'd wide awake, John.

An' when we all, lik' loosen'd hounds,
Broke out o' doors, wi' merry sounds,
Our friends among the playsome team,
All brought us gwaein so vur's the stream.
But Jeaene, that there, below a gleam
O' light, watch'd woone o's out o' zight;
Vor willenly, vor his "Good night,"
She'd longer bide awake, John.

An' while up _Leighs_ we stepp'd along
Our grassy path, wi' joke an' zong,
There _Plumber_, wi' its woody ground,
O' slopen knaps a-screen'd around,
Rose dim 'ithout a breath o' sound,
The wold abode o' squiers a-gone,
Though while they lay a-sleepen on,
Their stars wer still awake, John.

IVY HALL.

If I've a-stream'd below a storm,
An' not a-velt the rain,
An' if I ever velt me warm,
In snow upon the plain,
'Twer when, as evenen skies wer dim,
An' vields below my eyes wer dim,
I went alwone at evenen-fall,
Athirt the vields to Ivy Hall.

I voun' the wind upon the hill,
Last night, a-roaren loud,
An' rubben boughs a-creaken sh'ill
Upon the ashes' sh'oud;
But oh! the reelen copse mid groan;
An' timber's lofty tops mid groan;
The hufflen winds be music all,
Bezide my road to Ivy Hall.

A sheaedy grove o' ribbed woaks,
Is Wootton's shelter'd nest,
An' woaks do keep the winter's strokes
Vrom Knapton's evenen rest.
An' woaks ageaen wi' bossy stems,
An' elems wi' their mossy stems,
Do rise to screen the leafy wall
An' stwonen ruf ov Ivy Hall.

The darksome clouds mid fling their sleet.
An' vrost mid pinch me blue,
Or snow mid cling below my veet,
An' hide my road vrom view.
The winter's only jay ov heart,
An' storms do meaeke me gay ov heart,