breeze;
  Engaged in thought, to Neptune’s bounds I stray,
  To take my farewell of the parting day: 
  Far in the deep the sun his glory hides,
  A streak of gold the sea and sky divides;
  The purple clouds their amber linings show,
  And edged with flame rolls every wave below;
  Here pensive I behold the fading light,
  And o’er the distant billows lose my sight.

  FROM THE SHEPHERD’S WEEK

  THURSDAY; OR, THE SPELL

I rue the day, a rueful day I trow, The woeful day, a day indeed of woe!  When Lubberkin to town his cattle drove:  A maiden fine bedight he happed to love; The maiden fine bedight his love retains, And for the village he forsakes the plains.  Return, my Lubberkin! these ditties hear!  Spells will I try, and spells shall ease my care. With my sharp heel I three times mark the ground, And turn me thrice around, around, around.

* * * * *

Last May Day fair I searched to find a snail That might my secret lover’s name reveal.  Upon a gooseberry-bush a snail I found, For always snails near sweetest fruit abound.  I seized the vermin, home I quickly sped, And on the hearth the milk-white embers spread:  Slow crawled the snail, and, if I right can spell, In the soft ashes marked a curious L. Oh, may this wondrous omen lucky prove!  For L is found in ‘Lubberkin’ and ‘Love.’ With my sharp heel I three times mark the ground, And turn me thrice around, around, around.

* * * * *

This lady-fly I take from off the grass, Whose spotted back might scarlet red surpass:  ’Fly, lady-bird, north, south, or east, or west!  Fly where the man is found that I love best!’ He leaves my hand:  see, to the west he’s flown, To call my true-love from the faithless town. With my sharp heel I three times mark the ground, And turn me thrice around, around, around.

This mellow pippin, which I pare around, My shepherd’s name shall flourish on the ground:  I fling th’ unbroken paring o’er my head—­ Upon the grass a perfect L is read.  Yet on my heart a fairer L is seen Than what the paring marks upon the green. With my sharp heel I three times mark the ground, And turn me thrice around, around, around.

This pippin shall another trial make.  See, from the core two kernels brown I take:  This on my cheek for Lubberkin is worn, And Boobyclod on t’ other side is borne; But Boobyclod soon drops upon the ground (A certain token that his love’s unsound), While Lubberkin sticks firmly to the last—­ Oh, were his lips to mine but joined so fast! With my sharp heel I three times mark the ground, And turn me thrice around, around, around.

As Lubberkin once slept beneath a tree, I twitched his dangling garter from his knee; He wist not when the hempen string I drew.  Now mine I quickly doff of inkle blue; Together fast