“Will no one tell me what she sings? 
  Perhaps the plaintive numbers now
  For old, unhappy, far-off things,
  And battles long ago. 20
  Or is it some more humble lay,
  Familiar matter of to-day? 
  Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
  That has been, and may be again?

  “Whate’er the theme, the maiden sang 25
  As if her song could have no ending;
  I saw her singing at her work,
  And o’er the sickle bending;—­
  I listen’d motionless and still;
  And, as I mounted up the hill, 30
  The music in my heart I bore,
  Long after it was heard no more.

    —­Wordsworth.

  THE ISLAND OF THE SCOTS.

  The Rhine is running deep and red, the island lies before,—­
  “Now is there one of all the host will dare to venture o’er? 
  For not alone the river’s sweep might make a brave man quail;
  The foe are on the further side, their shot comes fast as hail. 
  God help us, if the middle isle we may not hope to win; 5
  Now is there any of the host will dare to venture in?”
  “The ford is deep, the banks are steep, the island-shore lies wide;
  Nor man nor horse could stem its force, or reach the further side. 
  See there! amidst the willow-boughs the serried[1] bayonets gleam,
  They’ve flung their bridge,—­they’ve won the isle; the foe
      have cross’d the stream! 10
  Their volley flashes sharp and strong,—­by all the saints! 
      I trow
  There never yet was soldier born could force that passage now!”

  So spoke the bold French Mareschal[2] with him who led the van,
  Whilst, rough and red before their view the turbid river ran. 
  Nor bridge nor boat had they to cross the wild and swollen Rhine, 15
  And thundering on the other bank far stretch’d the German line. 
  Hard by there stood a swarthy man, was leaning on his sword,
  And a sadden’d smile lit up his face as he heard the Captain’s word. 
  “I’ve seen a wilder stream ere now than that which rushes there;
  I’ve stemm’d a heavier torrent yet and never thought to dare. 20
  If German steel be sharp and keen, is ours not strong and true? 
  There may be danger in the deed, but there is honour too.”

  The old lord in his saddle turn’d, and hastily he said,
  “Hath bold Duguesclin’s[3] fiery heart awaken’d from the dead? 
  Thou art the leader of the Scots,—­now well and sure I know, 25
  That gentle blood in dangerous hour ne’er yet ran cold nor slow;
  And I have seen ye in the fight do all that mortal may: 
  If honour is the boon ye seek, it may be won this day,—­
  The prize is in the middle isle, there lies the adventurous way,
  And armies twain are on the plain, the daring deed to see,—­ 30
  Now ask thy gallant company if they will follow thee!”