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V.
For at that instant, by his side, A beast of fearful form he spied: At first he thought it was a bear, And headlong fell in dire despair.
He lost one slipper in the moss, And this was not his only loss.
With paws and snout the beast was nimble, And very soon cleared out the thimble.
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VI.
This rifling of his honey-pot Awoke our Elfin's wrath full hot.
He made a rope of linden bast, By either end he held it fast, And creeping up behind the beast, Intent upon the honey feast, Before it had the slightest inkling, The rope was round it in a twinkling.
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VII.
The mouse shrieked "Murder!" "Fire!" and "Thieves!"
And struggled through the twigs and leaves.
It pulled the reins with all its might, Our hero only drew them tight.
Upon the mouse's back he leapt, And like a man his seat he kept.
His steed was terribly affrighted, But he himself was much delighted.
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VIII.
"Gee up, my little horse!" he cried, "I mean to have a glorious ride; So bear me forth with lightning speed, A Knight resolved on doughty deed.
The wide world we will gallop round, And clear the hedges at one bound."
The mouse set off, the hero bantered, And out into the world they cantered.
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IX.
At last they rode up to an inn: "Good Mr. Host, pray who's within?"
"My daughter serves the customers, Before the fire the Tom-cat purrs."
For further news they did not wait-- The mouse sprang through the garden-gate-- They fled without a look behind them.
The question is--Did Thomas find them?
SONGS FOR MUSIC
SERENADE.
I would not have you wake for me, Fair lady, though I love you!
And though the night is warm, and all The stars are out above you; And though the dew's so light it could Not hurt your little feet, And nightingales in yonder wood Are singing pa.s.sing sweet.
Yet may my plaintive strain unite And mingle with your dreaming, And through the visions of the night Just interweave my seeming.
Yet no! sleep on with fancy free In that untroubled breast; No song of mine, no thought of me, Deserves to break your rest!
MAIDEN WITH THE GIPSY LOOK.
Maiden with the gipsy look, Dusky locks and russet hue, Open wide thy Sybil's book, Tell my fate and tell it true; Shall I live? or shall I die?
Timely wed, or single be?
Maiden with the gipsy eye, Read my riddle unto me!
Maiden with the gipsy face, If thou canst not tell me all, Tell me thus much, of thy grace, Should I climb, or fear to fall?
Should I dare, or dread to dare?
Should I speak, or silent be?
Maiden with the gipsy hair, Read my riddle unto me!
Maiden with the gipsy hair, Deep into thy mirror look, See my love and fortune there, Clearer than in Sybil's book: Let me cross thy slender palm, Let me learn my fate from thee; Maiden with the gipsy charm, Read my riddle unto me.
AH! WOULD I COULD FORGET.
The whispering water rocks the reeds, And, murmuring softly, laps the weeds; And nurses there the falsest bloom That ever wrought a lover's doom.
Forget me not! Forget me not!
Ah! would I could forget!
But, crying still, "Forget me not,"
Her image haunts me yet.
We wander'd by the river's brim, The day grew dusk, the pathway dim; Her eyes like stars dispell'd the gloom, Her gleaming fingers pluck'd the bloom.
Forget me not! Forget me not!
Ah! would I could forget!
But, crying still, "Forget me not,"
Her image haunts me yet.
