st,
Altho' their small bottines got somewhat wet,
And their incautiousness some duckings cost,
But over soaking hose they didn't fret,
For, jumping slippery rocks, what could they hope to get?

LXXVIII.

But, sad to say, as Dora took a leap
Across a little channel full of water,
A channel which was more than ankle-deep,
She slipped and fell ere either could have caught her;
Her sisters shrieked and, bending, they besought her,
To say if any hurt she had sustained,
And Flora, much alarmed, at once bethought her
"What if she has?"--for Dora there remained,
And most distressingly she moaned but nought explained.

LXXIX.

But as she spoke not, what could they surmise,
While with red blood bedabbled was her cheek?
She fell back helpless when she tried to rise,
And seemed unable, tho' she strove, to speak:
Upon her forehead gaped a crimson streak,
And stretched upon th' unyielding rock she lay,
To soothe her pain both sisterlike did seek,
They washed the bloody finger-prints away;
Alas that such as this should end so bright a day!

LXXX.

What could they do? where could they fly for aid
With night fast closing over all around?
Where could they go, bewildered and afraid,
With not the comfort of a single sound?
They looked aghast with lips all horror-bound,
With none to help and not a cottage near
Where they could take her, prostrate on the ground,
Where they might bind her brow who was so dear;
And stirred they had not with embarrassment and fear.

LXXXI.

Now clearly, as was apprehensible
From the sad nature of the wound received,
To all around she lay insensible,
And Rose and Flora were most sorely grieved;
Their inward terror could not be conceived,
They tried to raise her but they tried in vain,
And many sighs of disappointment heaved
As down she sank upon the rock again;
Each asked what should be done, they must not there remain.

LXXXII.

That was a question which they could not solve,
She was too heavy for their strength to bear,
But Rose to fly for succour did resolve,
Rushed up the cliff and left her sisters there;
Within her heart there lurked a trembling prayer
For her dear Dora's safety as she sped
Along the soundless road, she knew not where,
While darkness quickly gathered overhead,
On, on she ran, half overcome, and pale with dread.

LXXXIII.

The first she met--to him she did appeal,
He was a neighbouring cottager who bore
A right good heart which others' woes could