A Dog, too, had he; not for need,
But one to play with and to feed ;
Which would have led him, if bereft
Of company or friends, and left
Without a better guide.

And then the bagpipes he could blow; And thus from house to house would go, And all were pleased to hear and see;

For none made sweeter melody

Than did the poor blind Boy.

Yet he had many a restless dream;
Both when he heard the Eagles scream,

And when he heard the torrents roar,

And heard the water beat the shore

Near which their Cottage stood.

Beside a lake their Cottage stood,
Not small like ours, a peaceful flood;
But one of mighty size, and strange;
That, rough or smooth, is full of change,
And stirring in its bed.

For to this Lake, by night and day,
The great Sea-water finds its way
Through long, long windings of the hills;
And drinks up all the pretty rills

And rivers large and strong:

Then hurries back the road it came-
Returns, on errand still the same;
This did it when the earth was new;
And this for evermore will do,

As long as earth shall last.

And, with the coming of the Tide,
Come Boats and Ships, that sweetly ride,
Between the woods and lofty rocks;

And to the Shepherds with their flocks
Bring tales of distant Lands.

And of those tales, whate'er they were,
The blind Boy always had his share ;
Whether of mighty Towns, or Vales
With warmer suns and softer gales,

Or wonders of the Deep.

Yet more it pleased him, more it stirr'd,

When from the water-side he heard

The shouting, and the jolly cheers,

The bustle of the mariners

In stillness or in storm.

But what do his desires avail?

For He must never handle sail;

Nor mount the mast, nor row, nor float

In Sailor's ship or Fisher's boat

Upon the rocking waves.

His Mother often thought, and said,
What sin would be upon her head
If she should suffer this: "My Son,
Whate'er you do, leave this undone;

The danger is so great."

Thus lived he by Loch Levin's side Still sounding with the sounding tide, And heard the billows leap and dance, Without a shadow of mischance,

Till he was ten years old.

When one day (and now mark me well,

Ye soon shall know how this befel)
He's in a vessel of his own,

On the swift water hurrying down
Towards the mighty Sea.

In such a vessel never more

May human Creature leave the shore :
If this or that way he should stir,
Woe to the poor blind Mariner!

But

For death will be his doom.

say what bears him?-Ye have seen The Indian's Bow, his arrows keen,

Rare beasts, and birds with plumage bright

Gifts which, for wonder or delight,

Are brought in ships from far.

Such gifts had those sea-faring men Spread round that Haven in the glen; Each hut, perchance, might have its own, And to the Boy they all were known,

He knew and prized them all.

And one, the rarest, was a Shell
Which he, poor Child, had studied well;

The Shell of a green Turtle, thin

And hollow;-you might sit therein,

It was so wide and deep.

'Twas even the largest of its kind, Large, thin, and light as birch-tree rind; So light a Shell that it would swim,

And gaily lift its fearless brim

Above the tossing waves.

And this the little blind Boy knew:
And he a story strange, yet true,
Had heard, how in a Shell like this
An English Boy, O thought of bliss!

Had stoutly launched from shore

Launched from the margin of a bay
Among the Indian Isles, where lay
His Father's ship, and had sailed far,
To join that gallant Ship of war,

In his delightful Shell.

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