144 THE LOST LAMB; 
The Shepherd roused him from his sleep, 
And down the vale he hied, 
Like guardian good, to count his sheep, 
His Firstling by his side. 
His Firstling! ‘twas his only child— 
A boy of three years old, 
The father’s weary hours beguiled 
Whilst watching o’er his fold. 
And many an hour the child and he 
Joy’d o’er the vale together ; 
It was a lovely thing to see 
That child among the heather. 
The vale is pass’d, the mountains rear 
Their rugged cliffs in air, 
He must ascend to view more near 
His distant fleecy care. 
“* My child! the flowers are bright for thee, 
The daisy ’s pearl’d with dew ; 
Go, share them with the honey-bee, 
Till I return for you. 
Thy dog and mine with thee shall stay 
Whilst I the flock am counting,”—- 
He said, and took his tedious way, 
The hilly green-sward mounting. 
O’er crag and cliff the father toil’d, 
Unconscious pass’d the hours: 
He for a time forgot the child 
He ’d left among the flowers. 
