152 SELECT POETRY

And the yellow furze, like fields of gold,
That gladden some fairy regions old !
On mountain tops, on the billowy sea,
On the leafy stems of the forest tree,
How pleasant the life of a bird must be !
Mary Howitt.

 

THE STRID;
OR, THE FOUNDLING OF BOLTON PRIORY tr

Youne Romilly through Barden woods
Is ranging high and low,

And holds a greyhound in a leash?
To let slip on buck or doe.

The pair have reached that fearful chasm,
How tempting to bestride !

For lordly Wharf is there pent in
With rocks on either side.

This striding place is called “ the Strid,”
A name which it took of yore ;

A thousand years hath it borne that name,
And shall a thousand more.

And hither is young Romilly come ;
And what may now forbid

That he, perhaps for the hundredth time,
Should bound across the Strid ?

1 Bolton Priory—a celebrated Abbey, now in ruins, rc-
mantically situated on the banke of the Wharf, in York-
shire. 2 Leash—a leathern thong.