As though an infant's finger touched my breast.

And one by one (I know not whence) were brought

All spirits of power that most had stirred my thought

In selfless boyhood, on a new world tost Of wonder, and in its own fancies lost; 30 Or charmed my youth, that, kindled from above,

Loved ere it loved, and sought a form for love;

Or lent a lustre to the earnest scan Of manhood, musing what and whence is man!

Wild strain of Scalds, that in the sea-worn

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In playing there had found. He came to ask what he had found, That was so large, and smooth, and round.

Old Kaspar took it from the boy,

Who stood expectant by;

And then the old man shook his head, 15 And with a natural sigh,

""Tis some poor fellow's skull," said he, "Who fell in the great victory.

"I find them in the garden,

For there's many here about; And often, when I go to plough,

The ploughshare turns them out;

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For many thousand men," said he, "Were slain in that great victory."

"Now tell us what 'twas all about," 25 Young Peterkin, he cries;

And little Wilhelmine looks up

With wonder-waiting eyes; "Now tell us all about the war, And what they fought each other for." 30 "It was the English," Kaspar cried, "Who put the French to rout; But what they fought each other for, I could not well make out; But everybody said," quoth he, "That 'twas a famous victory.

"My father lived at Blenheim then,
Yon little stream hard by;
They burnt his dwelling to the ground,
And he was forced to fly;

So with his wife and child he fled,
Nor had he where to rest his head.

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