YE WEARIE WAYFARER 



HYS BALLAD 

 IN EIGHT FYTTES 



Fytte I 

 BY WOOD AND WOLD 



A PREAMBLE 

 "Beneath the greenwood bough," — W. Scott. 



Lightly the breath of the spring wind blows, 



Though laden with faint perfume, 

 'Tis the fraofrance rare that the bushman 

 knows, 



The scent of the wattle bloom. 

 Two-thirds of our journey at least are done. 



Old horse ! let us take a spell 

 In the shade from the glare of the noon-day 

 sun. 



Thus far we have travell'd well ; 

 Your bridle I'll slip, your saddle ungirth. 



And lay them beside this log. 

 For you'll roll in that track of reddish earth, 



And shake like a water-dog. 



Upon yonder rise there's a clump of trees — 



Their shadows look cool and broad — 



i6 



