It swept with thunderous noises loud;
Shaped like a curling snow-white cloud,
Or like a demon in a shroud.

And rearing Lindis backward pressed
Shook all her trembling banks amain;
Then madly at the eygre's breast

Flung up her weltering walls again.
Then banks came down with ruin and rout-
Then beaten foam flew round about
Then all the mighty floods were out.

So far, so fast the eygre drave,

The heart had hardly time to beat Before a shallow seething wave

Sobbed in the grasses at our feet; The feet had hardly time to flee Before it brake against the knee, And all the world was in the sea.

Upon the roof we sat that night,

The noise of bells went sweeping by ;

I marked the lofty beacon light

Stream from the church tower, red and high

A lurid mark and dread to see ;

And awesome bells they were to me,

That in the dark rang "Enderby."

They rang the sailor lads to guide

From roof to roof who fearless rowed;

And yet he moaned beneath his breath,

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Oh, come in life, or come in death!

Oh lost my love Elizabeth."

And didst thou visit him no more?

Thou didst, thou didst, my daughter dear; The waters laid thee at his door,

Ere yet the early dawn was clear.
Thy pretty bairns in fast embrace,
The lifted sun shone on thy face,
Down drifted to thy dwelling place.

That flow strewed wrecks about the grass,
That ebb swept out the flocks to sea;
A fatal ebb and flow, alas!

To many more than mine and me:
But each will mourn his own (she saith),
And sweeter woman ne'er drew breath
Than my son's wife, Elizabeth.

I shall never hear her more

By the reedy Lindis shore,

"Cusha! Cusha! Cusha!" calling,
Ere the early dews be falling;
I shall never hear her song,
"Cusha! Cusha!" all along

Where the sunny Lindis floweth,

Goeth, floweth ;

From the meads where melick groweth,

Where the water winding down,

Onward floweth to the town.

I shall never see her more

Where the reeds and rushes quiver,
Shiver, quiver;

Stand beside the sobbing river,
Sobbing, throbbing, in its falling
To the sandy, lonesome shore ;
I shall never hear her calling,
"Leave your meadow grasses mellow,
Mellow, mellow;

Quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow;
Come up, Whitefoot, come up, Lightfoot;
Quit your pipes of parsley hollow,

Hollow, hollow;

Come up, Lightfoot, rise and follow;

Lightfoot, Whitefoot,

From your clovers lift the head;

Come up, Jetty, follow, follow,

Jetty, to the milking shed."

-Jean Ingelow.

THE STORY OF THOMAS BECKET.

I. HIS LIFE.

Henry II. began his reign over England in the year 1154, and he was the mightiest king that had yet sat upon the throne. He had vast possessions. All England and nearly half of France were his, and he was well able 5 to rule over them and keep them in order.

He was a short, stout, reddish-haired man, with a face well-tanned by exposure to the wind and the sun.

His

legs were bowed by constant riding. Ever busy at something, he rarely sat down, except at meals; and there was plenty of work for him to do.

In the early years of his reign his chief friend and servant was Thomas Becket, who was a clever and hand- 5 some man. He knew well how to please the king by sharing in his amusements, and by helping him in the great work of keeping order among his barons and knights.

When Becket was a young man he was out hunting, one day, with his pet hawk upon his wrist. Riding care- 10 lessly along, he came to a narrow wooden bridge, which crossed a stream close to a mill. When in the middle of the bridge his horse stumbled, and Becket, horse, and hawk were thrown into the water.

The horse at once swam to the bank. So did Becket, 15 but, upon looking back, he saw his hawk struggling in the middle of the stream. Its straps had become entangled about its feet and wings, and the bird was helpless. Although the stream was running swiftly to the great mill-wheel, Becket turned round and swam back 20 to save the hawk.

By this time the current had carried him very near to the wheel, and in another moment both man and bird must have been crushed to death. But just then the miller saw the danger and stopped the mill. Becket climbed out of 25 the water with the bird in his hand, seeming not at all frightened because of the danger which he had escaped. During his entire life he had many trials and was opposed by many enemies; but he faced them all as fearlessly as he had risked drowning in order to save his hawk.

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King Henry made Becket his chancellor, that is his chief minister, and gave him much wealth. Becket lived in great splendor in a fine palace. He was so hospitable that he kept an open table, at which all were free to 5 come and feast when they chose. His clothes were the finest and gayest that could be made, and wherever he went he took with him troops of friends and servants.

Once, when he was sent to France to settle a dispute with the French king, he traveled with such a large 10 train of followers that the people were filled with wonder. We can picture the procession entering a quiet country town.

"First came two hundred boys singing quaint songs or glees. Then followed great hounds with their keepers, 15 behind whom were wagons guarded by fierce English

mastiffs. One of the wagons was laden with beer to be given away to the people who might render any help on the road.

"Then came twelve horses, upon each of which sat a 20 monkey and a groom. After all these there followed a vast company of knights and squires and priests, riding two and two.

"Last of all came Becket and a few friends, with whom he talked by the way." We can imagine the wonder of 25 the French people at so fine, yet strange, a show. We can hear them exclaim, "What kind of a man must the king of England be, when his chancellor can travel in such state!"

At this time the Church in England possessed great 30 power and wealth. It was the safeguard that stood