"You have heard," said a youth to his sweetheart, who stood,
While he sat on a corn-sheaf, at daylight's decline,
"You have heard of the Danish boy's whistle of wood?
I wish that that Danish boy's whistle were mine."
"And what would you do with it?-tell me," she said,
While an arch smile played over her beautiful face.
"I would blow it," he answered; "and then my fair maid
Would fly to my side, and would here take her place."
"T is to woo a bonnie lassie When the kye come hame.
When the kye come hame, When the kye come hame, 'Tween the gloamin' an' the mirk, When the kye come hame.
'Tis not beneath the burgonet, Nor yet beneath the crown; 'Tis not on couch o' velvet,
Nor yet in bed o' down : "T is beneath the spreading birk, In the glen without the name, Wi' a bonnie bonnie lassie, When the kye come hame.
There the blackbird bigs his nest, For the mate he lo'es to see, And on the tapmost bough
O, a happy bird is he! There he pours his melting ditty, And love is a' the theme; And he 'll woo his bonnie lassie, When the kye come hame.
When the blewart bears a pearl, And the daisy turns a pea, And the bonnie lucken gowan his ee,
Then the lavrock, frae the blue lift, Draps down and thinks nae shame To woo his bonnie lassie, When the kye come hame. See yonder pawky shepherd, That lingers on the hill: His yowes are in the fauld,
And his lambs are lying still; Yet he downa gang to bed,
For his heart is in a flame, To meet his bonnie lassie When the kye come hame.
When the little wee bit heart Rises high in the breast, And the little wee bit starn Rises red in the east,
O, there's a joy sae dear
That the heart can hardly frame ! Wi' a bonnie bonnie lassie, When the kye come hame.
Then since all Nature joins
In this love without alloy, O, wha wad prove a traitor
To Nature's dearest joy? Or wha wad choose a crown, Wi' its perils an' its fame, And miss his bonnie lassie, When the kye come hame ?
AND there two runners did the sign abide Foot set to foot, a young man slim and fair, Crisp-haired, well knit, with firm limbs often tried In places where no man his strength may spare; Dainty his thin coat was, and on his hair A golden circlet of renown he wore, And in his hand an olive garland bore.
But on this day with whom shall he contend? A maid stood by him like Diana clad When in the woods she lists her bow to bend, Too fair for one to look on and be glad, Who scarcely yet has thirty summers had, If he must still behold her from afar; Too fair to let the world live free from war.
She seemed all earthly matters to forget; Of all tormenting lines her face was clear, Her wide gray eyes upon the goal were set Calm and unmoved as though no soul were near; But her foe trembled as a man in fear, Nor from her loveliness one moment turned His anxious face with fierce desire that burned.
! But her late foe stopped short amidst his course, One moment gazed upon her piteously, Then with a groan his lingering feet did force To leave the spot whence he her eyes could see; And, changed like one who knows his time must be But short and bitter, without any word He knelt before the bearer of the sword;
Then high rose up the gleaming deadly blade, Bared of its flowers, and through the crowded place Was silence now, and midst of it the maid Went by the poor wretch at a gentle pace, And he to hers upturned his sad white face; Nor did his eyes behold another sight Ere on his soul there fell eternal night.
ATALANTA CONQUERED.
FROM ATALANTA'S RACE," IN THE EARTHLY PARADISE."
Now has the lingering month at last gone by, Again are all folk round the running place, Nor other seems the dismal pageantry
Than heretofore, but that another face Looks o'er the smooth course ready for the race, For now, beheld of all, Milanion
Now through the hush there broke the trum- Stands on the spot he twice has looked upon.
Just as the setting sun made eventide.
Then from light feet a spurt of dust there sprang, And swiftly were they running side by side; But silent did the thronging folk abide Until the turning-post was reached at last, And round about it still abreast they passed.
But when the people saw how close they ran, When half-way to the starting-point they were, A cry of joy broke forth, whereat the man Headed the white-foot runner, and drew near Unto the very end of all his fear;
And scarce his straining feet the ground could feel, And bliss unhoped for o'er his heart 'gan steal. But midst the loud victorious shouts he heard Her footsteps drawing nearer, and the sound Of fluttering raiment, and thereat afeard
His flushed and eager face he turned around, And even then he felt her past him bound Fleet as the wind, but scarcely saw her there Till on the goal she laid her fingers fair.
There stood she breathing like a little child Amid some warlike clamor laid asleep, For no victorious joy her red lips smiled, Her cheek its wonted freshness did but keep; No glance lit up her clear gray eyes and deep, Though some divine thought softened all her face As once more rang the trumpet through the place.
This tender sorrow for the time past o'er,
To win the day, though now but scanty space
These doubts that grow each minute more and Was left betwixt him and the winning place.
Why does she tremble as the time grows near, And weak defeat and woful victory fear?
Short was the way unto such wingéd feet, Quickly she gained upon him till at last He turned about her eager eyes to meet,
But while she seemed to hear her beating And from his hand the third fair apple cast.
Above their heads the trumpet blast rang out, And forth they sprang; and she must play her part;
Then flew her white feet, knowing not a doubt, Though slackening once, she turned her head about,
But then she cried aloud and faster fled
She wavered not, but turned and ran so fast After the prize that should her bliss fulfil, That in her hand it lay ere it was still.
Nor did she rest, but turned about to win Once more, an unblest woful victory - And yet - and yet - why does her breath begin To fail her, and her feet drag heavily?
Than e'er before, and all men deemed him Why fails she now to see if far or nigh dead.
But with no sound he raised aloft his hand, And thence what seemed a ray of light there flew
And past the maid rolled on along the sand; Then trembling she her feet together drew, And in her heart a strong desire there grew To have the toy; some god she thought had given
That gift to her, to make of earth a heaven.
Then from the course with eager steps she ran, And in her odorous bosom laid the gold. But when she turned again, the great-limbed man Now well ahead she failed not to behold, And mindful of her glory waxing cold, Sprang up and followed him in hot pursuit, Though with one hand she touched the golden fruit.
Note, too, the bow that she was wont to bear She laid aside to grasp the glittering prize, And o'er her shoulder from the quiver fair Three arrows fell and lay before her eyes Unnoticed, as amidst the people's cries She sprang to head the strong Milanion, Who now the turning-post had wellnigh won.
But as he set his mighty hand on it, White fingers underneath his own were laid, And white limbs from his dazzled eyes did flit, Then he the second fruit cast by the maid, But she ran on awhile, then as afraid Wavered and stopped, and turned and made no stay Until the globe with its bright fellow lay.
Then, as a troubled glance she cast around, Now far ahead the Argive could she see, And in her garment's hem one hand she wound To keep the double prize, and strenuously Sped o'er the course, and little doubt had she
The goal is why do her gray eyes grow dim? Why do these tremors run through every limb?
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