Thrice did the summer flow'ret grow,

And thrice cold winter's blast did blow,

On Edgar's lowly tomb.

Amid the valley lone,

Where foot of mortal seldom came,

Liv'd Ellen and the aged dame,

In solitude, unknown.

And, when old Edgar droop'd and died, Poor Mary's wants were still supplied, By tender Ellen's care.

At early dawn, her little feet

The dew, from off the pathway, beat,

And water, from the brook, she drew:

And oft she pluck'd the flow'r, that

Upon the margin fair ;

And, still while poor old Mary slept,

Smiling, towards her pillow crept,

And gently plac'd it there.

grew,

Then silent would she watch, the while, Her fond surprise and wak'ning smile.

Next, with kind look and willing haste,
She brought her mother's slight repast.
Then, o'er her neck, her kerchief threw ;

Full well the signal Carlo knew,
And, to the door, impatient flew.

Oft did he cast alternate look,
From Ellen, to the little nook,
Where high the birchen basket hung,

Ere, from its place, she gaily took,
And careless, on her finger, swung.

And, o'er her auburn gay, Before she had her gipsy tied, That did, at best, but poorly hide Her fairy face and floating pride;

His frequent bark would loudly chide

Her ling'ring step's delay.

Scarce, on the string, she plac'd her hand,

Ere Carlo would in silence stand,

With forward head, and upward ear,

The sound of lifting latch to hear;

And body back, and foot before,

And eye, intent, upon the door.

And Ellen scarce the bobbin drew,
Ere, o'er the threshold, Carlo flew,

And swiftly shot along the lawn,

With eagle's speed; nor had she more

Than dropp'd the latch, and clos'd the door,

Ere Carlo down the hill had gone.

And, scarce she left the threshold stone,

Ere he had swam the brook below,

And climb'd the cliff, and, on its brow,

Paus'd, and look'd back, on Ellen's way,

Shook, from his locks, the water spray,

And bark'd again, to chide delay.

And, when, with lily foot, unshod,

Across the shallow brook, she trod,
Again he sped, for then he knew

The path, that Ellen would pursue.

And, when she gain'd the ridge's height,

Carlo was fairly out of sight.

And thus, with health and sweet content, Fair Ellen pass'd her early hours,

Nor yet e'er op'd her eyes, on sorrow;

Save once, but long those tears had dried;

'Twas, when her father, Edgar, died.

And thus, with basket at her side,

Carlo and little Ellen went,

In search of herbs, and fruits, and flow'rs ;

And, homeward, with the little store,
At even, sought the cottage door.

Then, to the village, on the morrow,
Carlo and little Ellen came,

And sold them, to the village dame.

With slower step, then Carlo trod,

And proudly sought the village road

For well he constru'd, what did mean The decent plaid and bonnet green.

It was a pleasant thing, to see

Ellen, at even, merrily,

;

When length'ning shadows, o'er the lea,
Call❜d home the ploughman wearily ;
Tripping, with lightsome steps, along,
While, half untied, her bonnet hung;
And Carlo, marching close before,
With lifted head, the basket bore.