920 



ANNUAL REGISTER, 1809, 



V. 



The wind it is keen, and the snow loads the gale 

 And no one will list to my innocent tale ; ' 



I'll go to the grave where my parents both lie, 

 And death shall befriend tlie poor wandering boy ! 



DESCRIPTION OF A SUMMER'S EVE. 

 [From the same.] 



DOWN the sultry arc of day, 

 The burning wheels have urg'd their way 



And eve along the western skies 



Sheds her intermingling dyes. 



Down the deep, the miry lane, 



Creeking comes the empty wain. 



And driver on the shaft-horse sits, 



Whistling now-and-then by fits ; 



And oft, with his accustom'd call, 



Urging on the sluggish Ball, 



The barn is still, the master's gone. 



And thresher puts his jacket on, 

 While Dick upon the ladder tall, 

 Nails the dead kite to the wall. 

 Here comes shepherd Jack at last. 

 He has penn'd the sheep-cote fast, 

 For 'twas but two nights before, 

 A Iamb was eaten on the moor ; 

 His empty wallet Rover carries. 

 Nor for Jack, when near home tarries. 

 With lolling tongue he runs to try, 

 If the horse-trough be not dry. 

 The milk is settled in the pans. 

 And supper-messes in the cans ; 

 In the hovel carts are wheel'd. 

 And both the colts are drove a-field ; 

 The horses are all bedded up, 

 And the ewe is with the tup. 

 The snare for Mister Fox is set, 

 The leaven laid, the thatching wet. 

 And Bess has slink'd away to talk 

 With Roger in the holly-walk. 



Now 01 the settle all, but Bess 

 Are set to eat their supper-mess ; 

 And little Tom, and roguish Kate, 

 Are swinging on the meadow gate. 



Now 



