“Si 
THE CARRION-CROW. Pe. 
‘His master he knows not where he lies, 
So we shall go down to peck out his eyes ; 
His master he mourneth, early and late ;— 
But ’tis joy to me and my beautiful mate ! 
“ And the miller last week he killed his mare,— 
She lies in a hollow, I know where,— 
There’s an ancient cross of crumbling stone 
Down in that hollow, dank and lone! 
“The mare was blind, and lame, and thin, 
And she had not a bone but it pierced her skin ; 
For twenty years did she come and go,— 
We'll be with her anon!” croaked the Carrion- 
crow. 
‘“« And there bleats a lamb by the thundering linn, 
The mother ewe she has tumbled in; 
Three days ago and the lamb was strong, 
Now he is weak with fasting long. 
“ All day long he moans and calls, 
And over his mother the water falls ; 
He can see his mother down below, 
But why she comes not he does not know. 
