He saw me, and he turned aside,
As if he wished himself to hide :
Then with his coat he made essay
To wipe those briny tears away.
I followed him, and said, “My Friend,
What ails you ? wherefore weep you so ?"

-“ Shame on me, Sir! this lusty Lamb,
He makes my tears to flow.
Today I fetched him from the rock;
He is the last of all

my

flock.

When I was yourg, a single Man,
And after youthful follies ran,
Though little given to care and thought,
Yet, so it was, a Ewe I bought;
And other sheep from her I raised,
As healthy sheep as you might see ;
And then I married, and was rich
As I could wish to be ;
Of sheep I numbered a full score,
And every year increased my store.

Year after year my stock it grew,
And from this one, this single Ewe,
Full fifty comely sheep I raised,
As sweet a flock as ever grazed !
Upon the mountain did they feed,
They throve, and we at home did thrive.
-This lusty Lamb of all my store
Is all that is alive;
And now I care not if we die,
And perish all of poverty.

Six Children, Sir! had I to feed,
Hard labour in a time of need!
My pride was tamed, and in our grief
I of the Parish ask'd relief.
They said I was a wealthy man;
My sheep upon the mountain fed,
And it was fit that thence I took
Whereof to buy us bread.”
“ Do this : how can we give to you,"
They cried, “ what to the poor is due ?"

I sold a sheep, as they had said,
And bought my little children bread,
And they were healthy with their food ;
For me it never did me good.
A woeful time it was for me,
To see the end of all my gains,
The pretty flock which I had reared
With all my care and pains,
To see it melt like snow away!
For me it was a woeful day.

Another still! and still another!

A little lamb, and then its mother!
It was a vein that never stopp'da
Like blood-drops from my heart they dropp'd.
Till thirty were not left alive
They dwindled, dwindled, one by one,
And I may say, that many a time
I wished they all were gone :
They dwindled one by one away ;
For me it was a woeful day.

To wicked deeds I was inclined,
And wicked fancies cross'd

my

mind;

And every man I chanced to see,
I thought he knew some ill of me.
No peace, no comfort could I find,
No ease, within doors or without,
And crazily, and wearily,
I went my work about.
Oft-times I thought to run away ;
For me it was a woeful day.

Sir! 'twas a precious flock to me, As dear as my own Children be; For daily with my growing store I loved my Children more and more. Alas! it was an evil time; God cursed me in my sore distress ; I prayed, yet every day I thought I loved my Children less; And every week, and every day, My flock, it seemed to melt away.

They dwindled, Sir, sad sight to see!
From ten to five, from five to three,
A lamb, a wether, and a ewe ;-
And then, at last, from three to two;
And of my fifty, yesterday
1 had but only one :
And here it lies upon my arm,
Alas! and I have none;
Today I fetched it from the rock;
It is the last of all my flock.”