the forest: ns. H 



fn ancient days from dist uchland came. 



That oaken table, so uncouth and low, 



Stood where it stands some sixtv vrars a^o. 



In this arm-chair where Hans delights to snore* 



His great-grandfather nodded long before. 



'I'h us glows his greasy stove throughout the year, 



The torrid zone forever ra"".°s here. 



Here, when the shades of weary evening fall, 



Bits Mans, the lord and sovereign cf all ; 



Das Nuie Callander (»>) from the nail unhooks, 



His dark brows solemn, and morose his looks. 



Beside his lamp ; with spectach ae, 



Tomorrow's weather seeks, its rains or snows, 



The moon's eventful signs, th' auspicious hour 



To plant the downward root or rising flower; 



Of witch-confounding doctors tells the tale, 



fcips his metheglin, or bis cider stale. 



All other jo\ Tr : for which he ever sighs 



His dear-loved saur<raid or his pipe supplies. 



Abroad at toil ere yet the morning breaks, 

 E h rugged task his hardy / 'ran partakes ; 

 With brawny arms the si; » ploughshare guides; 



Whips up her nags and o'er the furrow strides; 

 Awakes the echoes with her clamorous tongue, 

 And lends e'en Hans a blow when things go wrong, 

 •Sweeps round her head the leud resounding flail, 

 And sweats the sturdiest mower in the vale. 



Light beat our hearts with changing prospects (ray, 

 A» down through Durham vale we bend our way, 



