English Poetry and Prose of the Romantic Movement

boy grew up

From day to day, to Michael's ear there

came

Distressful tidings. Long before the time 210 Of which I speak, the shepherd had been bound

215

A healthy lad, and carried in his cheek Two steady roses that were five years old; 180 Then Michael from a winter coppice cut With his own hand a sapling, which he 220 hooped

With iron, making it throughout in all Due requisites a perfect shepherd's staff, And gave it to the boy; wherewith equipt 185 He as a watchman oftentimes was placed At gate or gap, to stem or turn the flock; And, to his office prematurely called, There stood the urchin, as you will divine, Something between a hindrance and a help;

190 And for this cause not always, I believe,
Receiving from his father hire of praise;
Though nought was left undone which
staff, or voice,

Or looks, or threatening gestures, could
perform.

But soon as Luke, full ten years old,

could stand

225

In surety for his brother's son, a man
Of an industrious life, and ample means;
But unforeseen misfortunes suddenly
Had prest upon him; and old Michael now
Was summoned to discharge the forfeiture,
A grievous penalty, but little less

Than half his substance. This unlookedfor claim,

At the first hearing, for a moment took More hope out of his life than he supposed

That any old man ever could have lost. As soon as he had armed himself with

strength

To look his trouble in the face, it seemed The shepherd's sole resource to sell at once A portion of his patrimonial fields.

Such was his first resolve; he thought again,

And his heart failed him. "Isabel," said

he,

Two evenings after he had heard the news, "I have been toiling more than seventy

years,

And in the open sunshine of God's love 230 Have we all lived; yet, if these fields

of ours

Should pass into a stranger's hand, I think
That I could not lie quiet in my grave.
Our lot is a hard lot; the sun himself
Has scarcely been more diligent than I;
And I have lived to be a fool at last
To my own family. An evil man

That was, and made an evil choice, if he
Were false to us; and, if he were not false,
There are ten thousand to whom loss like

this

Had been no sorrow. I forgive him;-but 'Twere better to be dumb than to talk thus.

"When I began, my purpose was to speak

Of remedies and of a cheerful hope. Our Luke shall leave us, Isabel; the land 245 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, 250 Thriving in trade-and Luke to him shall go,

And with his kinsman's help and his own

thrift

And left estates and monies to the poor, And, at his birth-place, built a chapel floored

270 With marble, which he sent from foreign 305 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

275 These two days has been meat and drink to me.

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 do His utmost for the welfare of the boy; 310 To which, requests were added, that forth

Make ready Luke's best garments, of the 315 best

280 Buy for him more, and let us send him forth

Tomorrow, or the next day, or tonight: -If he could go, the boy should go tonight."

Here Michael ceased, and to the fields 320
went forth

With a light heart. The housewife for

five days

with

He might be sent to him. Ten times or

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 tomorrow." 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 designed To build a sheepfold; and, before he heard 325 The tidings of his melancholy loss,

For this same purpose he had gathered up

And still I loved thee with increasing love. 345 Never to living ear came sweeter sounds

Than when I heard thee by our own fireside First uttering, without words, a natural tune;

While thou, a feeding babe, didst in thy joy

Sing at thy mother's breast. Month followed month,

350 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

355 Have played together, nor with me didst

385

390

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 shouldst go."

At this the old man paused; Then, pointing to the stones near which they stood,

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 may live

To see a better day. At eighty-four
I still am strong and hale;-do 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 395 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 couldst never have a wish

400 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,
405 When thou art gone away, should evil men
Be thy companions, think of me, my son,
And of this moment; hither turn thy
thoughts,

The shepherd went about his daily work
With confident and cheerful thoughts; and

now

440 Sometimes when he could find a leisure hour

And God will strengthen thee: amid all fear And all temptation, Luke, I pray that thou 410 May'st bear in mind the life thy fathers 445 lived,

Who, being innocent, did for that cause Bestir them in good deeds. Now, fare thee well

When thou return 'st, thou in this place wilt see

A work which is not here: a covenant 415 "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
420 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,

425 Ere the night fell:-with morrow's dawn the boy

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
Fell on 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 450 Would overset the brain, or break the heart:

455

I have conversed with more than one who
well

Remember the old man, and what he was
Years after he had heard this heavy news.
His bodily frame had been from youth to

age

Of an unusual strength. Among the rocks He went, and still looked up to sun and cloud,

And listened to the wind; and, as before, Performed all kinds of labor for his sheep, And for the land, his small inheritance. 460 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

475 Was sold, and went into a stranger's hand. The cottage which was named THE EVE

NING STAR

Is gone-the ploughshare has been through the ground

On which it stood; great changes have been wrought

10 The steps of June; as if their various hues Were only hindrances that stood between Them and their object: but, meanwhile, prevailed

Such an entire contentment in the air That every naked ash, and tardy tree 15 Yet leafless, showed as if the countenance With which it looked on this delightful day Were native to the summer.-Up the brook I roamed in the confusion of my heart, Alive to all things and forgetting all. 20 At length I to a sudden turning came In this continuous glen, where down a rock The stream, so ardent in its course before, Sent forth such sallies of glad sound, that. all

Which I till then had heard appeared the voice

25 of common pleasure; beast and bird, the lamb,

The shepherd's dog, the linnet and the thrush,

Vied with this waterfall, and made a song Which, while I listened, seemed like the

wild growth

Or like some natural produce of the air, 30 That could not cease to be. Green leaves were here;

But 'twas the foliage of the rocks-the birch,

The yew, the holly, and the bright green thorn,

With hanging islands of resplendent furze : And on a summit, distant a short space, 35 By any who should look beyond the dell A single mountain-cottage might be seen. I gazed and gazed, and to myself I said,