“ When I began, my purpose was to speak Of remedies and of a cheerful hope. Our Luke sliall leave us, Isabel; the land Shall not go from us, and it shall be free ; He shall possess it, free as is the wind That passes over it. We have, thou know'st, Another kinsman-he will be our friend In this distress. He is a prosperous man, Thriving in trade--and Luke to him shall go, Buy for him more, and let us send him forth To-morrow, or the next day, or to-night: -If he could go, the boy should go to night." Here Michael ceased, and to the fields went forth With a light heart. The Housewife for five days Was restless morn and night, and all day long Wrought on with her best fingers to pre pare Things needful for the journey of her But Isabel was glad when Sunday came To stop hier in her work: for, when she lay By Michael's side, she through the last two nights Heard him, how he was troubled in his sleep : And when they rose at morning she could see That all his hopes were gone. That day at noon She said to Luke, while they two by themselves Were sitting at the door, “Thou must son. not go : And with his kinsman's help and his own thrift He quickly will repair this loss, and then He may return to us. If here he stay, What can be done? Where every one is poor, What can be gained ?" At this the old Man paused, * And Isabel sat silent, for her mind Was busy, looking back into past times. There's Richard Bateman, thought she to herself, He was a parish-boy-at the church-door They made a gathering for him, shil lings, pence And halfpennies, wherewith the neigh bors bought A basket, which they filled with pedlar's wares ; And, with this basket on his arm, the lad Went up to London, found a master there, Who, out of many, chose the trusty boy To go and overlook his merchandise Beyond the seas; where he grew won drous rich, And left estates and monies to the poor And, at his birthplace, built a chapel, floored With marble which he sent from foreign lands. These thoughts, and many others of like sort, Passed quickly through the mind of Isabel, And her face brightened. The old Man was glad. And thus resumed :“Well, Isabel ! this scheme These two days, has been meat and drink to me. Far more than we have lost is left us yet. -We have enough-I wish indeed that I Were younger ;-but this hope is a good hope. -Make ready Luke's best garments, of the best We have no other child but thee to lose, voice; And Isabel, when she had told her fears, Recovered heart. That evening her best fare Did she bring forth, and all together sat Like happy people round a Christmas fire. With daylight Isabel resumed her work; And all the ensuing week the house appeared As cheerful as a grove in Spring: at length The expected letter from their kinsman came, With kind assurances that he would de His utmost for the welfare of the Boy ; To which, requests were added, that forthwith He might be sent to him. Ten times or more The letter was read over ; Isabel Went forth to show it to the neighbors round; Nor was there at that time on English land : A prouder heart than Luke's. When Isabel Had to her house returned, the old Man said, “ He shall depart to-morrow." To this word The Housewife answered, talking much of things Which, if at such short notice he should go, Would surely be forgotten. But at length She gave consent, and Michael was at ease. Near the tumultuous brook of Green head Ghyll, In that deep valley, Michael had de signed To build a Sheepfold ; and, before he heard The tidings of his melancholy loss, For this same purpose he had gathered up A heap of stones, which by the stream let's edge Lay thrown together, ready for the work. With Luke that evening thitherward he walked : And soon as they had reached the place he stopped, And thus the old Man spake to him: * My Son, To-morrow thou wilt leave me: with full heart I look upon thee, for thou art the same That wert a promise to me ere thy birth, And all thy life hast been my daily joy. I will relate to thee some little part Of our two histories ; 'twill do thee good When thou art from me, even if I should touch On things thou canst not know of. After thou First cam’st into the world-as oft befalls To new-born infants-thou didst sleep away Two days, and blessings from thy Father's tongue Then fell upon thee. Day by day passed on, And still I loved thee with increasing love. Never to living ear came sweeter sounds Than when I heard thee by our own fire side First uttering, without words, a natural tune; While thou, a feeding babe, didst in thy joy Sing at thy Mother's breast. Month fol. lowed month, And in the open fields my life was passed And on the mountains; else I think that thou Hadst been brought up upon thy Father's knees. But we were playmates, Luke : among these hills, As well thou knowest, in us the old and young Have played together, nor with me didst thou Lack any pleasure which a boy can know, Luke had a manly heart ; but at these words He sobbed aloud. The old Man grasped his hand, And said, “Nay, do not take it so— I see That these are things of which I need not speak. -Even to the utmost I have been to thee A kind and a good Father : and herein I but repay a gift which I myself Received at others' bands ; for, though now old Beyond the common life of man, I still Remember them who loved me in my youth. Both of them sleep together: here they lived, As all their Forefathers had done ; and when At length their time was come, they were not loth To give their bodies to the family mould. I wished that thou should'st live the life they lived : But, 'tis a long time to look back, my Son, And see so little gain from threescore years. These fields were burthened when they came to me; Till I was forty years of age, not more Than half of my inheritance was mine. I toiled and toiled ; God blessed me in my work, And till these three weeks past the land was free. -It looks as if it never could endure Another Master. Heaven forgive me, Luke, If I judge ill for thee, but it seems good That thou should'st go.” At this the old Man paused ; Then, pointing to the stones near which they stood, 66 ! may live seen. Thus, after a short silence, he resumed : ** This was a work for us; and now, my Son, It is a work for me. But, lay one stoneHere, lay it for me, Luke, with thine own hands. Nay, Boy, be of good hope ;-we both To see a better day. At eighty-four I still am strong and hale ;-o thou thy part; I will do mine.--I will begin again With many tasks that were resigned to thee : Up to the heights, and in among the storms, Will I without thee go again, and do All works which I was wont to do alone, Before I knew thy face.-Heaven bless thee, Boy! Thy heart these two weeks has been beating fast With many hopes; it should be so-yes yes-I knew that thou could'st never have a wish To leave me, Luke: thou hast been bound to me Only by links of love: when thou art gone, What will be left to us !--But, I forget My purposes. Lay now the corner-stone, As I requested ; and hereafter, Luke, When thou art gone away, should evil Be thy companions, think of me, my Son, And of this moment; hither turn thy thoughts, And God will strengthen thee: amid all fear And all temptation, Luke, I pray that thou May'st bear in mind the life thy Fathers lived, Who, being innocent, did for that cause Bestir them in good deeds. Now, fare thee wellWhen thou return'st, thou in this place wilt see A work which is not here: a covenant 'Twill be between us ; but, whatever fate Befall thee, I shall love thee to the last, And bear thy memory with me to the grave." The Shepherd ended here ; and Luke stooped down, And, as his Father had requested, laid The first stone of the Sheepfold. At the sight The old Man's grief broke from him ; to his heart He pressed his Son, he kissed him and wept ; And to the house together they returned. -Hushed was that House in peace, or seeming peace, Ere the night fell :-- with morrow's dawn the Boy Began his journey, and when he had reached The public way, he put on a bold face ; And all the neighbors, as he passed their doors, Came forth with wishes and with fare well prayers, That followed him till he was out of sight. A good report did from their Kinsman come, Of Luke and his well-doing: and the Boy Wrote loving letters, full of wondrous news, Which, as the Housewife phrased it, were throughout “ The prettiest letters that were ever Both parents read them with rejoicing hearts. So, many months passed on: and once again The Shepherd went about his daily work With confident and cheerful thoughts; and now Sometimes when he could find a leisure hour He to that valley took his way, and there Wrought at the Sheepfold. Meantime Luke began To slacken in his duty; and, at length, He in the dissolute city gave himself To evil courses : ignominy and shame Fellon him, so that he was driven at last To seek a hiding-place beyond the seas, There is a comfort in the strength of love; 'Twill make a thing endurable, which else Would overset the brain, or break the heart: I have conversed with more than one who well Remember the old Man, and what he was Years after he had heard this heavy men а The Sparrow's dwelling, which, hard by Together visited. 1801. 1807. He went, and still looked up to sun and cloud, And listened to the wind; ard, as before, Performed all kinds of labor for his sheep, And for the land, his small inheritance. And to that hollow dell from time to time Did he repair, to build the Fold of which His flock had need. Tis not forgotten yet The pity which was then in every heart For the old Man--and 'tis believed by all That many and many a day he thither went, And never lifted up a single stone. There, by the Sheepfold, sometimes was he seen Sitting alone, or with his faithful Dog, Then old, beside him, lying at his feet. The length of full seven years. from time to time, He at the building of this Sheepfold wrought, And left the work unfinished when he died. Three years, or little more, did Isabel Survive her Husband : at her death the estate Was sold, and went into a stranger's hand. The Cottage which was named the Even ING STAR Is gone--the ploughshare has been through the ground On which it stood ; great changes have been wrought In all the neighborhood :-yet the oak is left That grew beside their door ; and the remains Of the unfinished Sheepfold may be seen Beside the boisterous brook of Greenhead Ghyll. 1800, 1800, MY HEART LEAPS UP WHEN I BEHOLD A rainbow in the sky: Or let me die! 1802. 1807. WRITTEN IN MARCH THE SPARROWS' NEST Written in the Orchard, Town-end, Grasmere. At the end of the garden of my father's house at Cockermouth was a high terrace that com. manded a fine view of the river Derwent and Cockermouth Castle. This was our favorite play-ground. The terrace-wall, a low one, was covered with closely-clipt privet and roses, which gave an almost impervious shelter to birds that built their nests there. The latter of these stanzas alludes to one of those nests. (Wordsworth.) BEHOLD, within the leafy shade, Those bright blue eggs together laid ! On me the chance-discovered sight Gleamed like a vision of delight. I started-seeming to espy The home and sheltered bed, WHILE RESTING ON THE BRIDGE AT THE FOOT OF BROTHER'S WATER Extempore. This little poem was a favorito with Joanna Baillie. ( Wordsworth) Compare the description of the same scene by Wordsworth's sister: “There was the gentle flowing of the stream, the glittering, lively lake, green fields without a living creature to be seen ou them ; behind us, a flat pasture with fortytwo cattle feeding; to our left, the road leading to the hamlet. No smoke there, the sun shone on the bare roofs. The people were at work ploughing, harrowing, and sowing ; ; : . A dog barking now and then, cocks crowing, birds twittering, the snow in patches at the top of the highest hills, yellow palms, purple and green twigs on the birches, ashes with their glittering spikes, stems quite bare. The hawthorn a bright green, with black stems under the oak, The moss of the oak glossy. We went on. William finished his poem before we got to the foot of Kirkstone." (Dorothy Wordsworth's Jour nul, April 16, 1802.) THE Cock is crowing, The stream is flowing, The small birds twitter, The lake doth glitter, 1 Dorothy Wordsworth, called Emmeline also in the poem To a Butterfly. See the beautiful lines To my Sister, p. 8, the last lines of the Sonnet p. 31, and potes on the Sonnets of 1802. Has a thought about her nest, The green field sleeps in the sun ; The oldest and youngest Their heads never raising ; Like an army defeated anon : Blue sky prevailing; 1802. 1807. Poets, vain men in their mood ! Comfort have thou of thy merit, TO THE SMALL CELANDINE Ill befall the vellow flowers, Written at Town-end, Grasmere. It is remarkable that this flower, coining out so early in the spring as it does, and so bright and beauti. ful, and in such profusion, should not have been noticed earlier in English verse. What adds much to the interest that attends it is its habit of shutting itself up and opening out according to the degree of light and temperature of the air. (Wordsworth.) PANSIES, lilies, kingcups, daisies, Prophet of delight and mirth, 180. 1807 TO THE SAME FLOWER Modest, yet withal an Elf PLEASURES newly found are sweet |
