Thy limbs will shortly be twice as stout as they are now, Then I'll yoke thee to my cart like a pony in the plough; My playmate thou shalt be; and when the wind is cold Our hearth shall be thy bed, our house shall be thy fold. It will not, will not rest!-Poor creature, can it be Alas, the mountain-tops that look so green and fair ! I've heard of fearful winds and darkness that come there; The little brooks that seem all pastime and all play, When they are angry, roar like lions for their prey. Here thou need'st not dread the raven in the sky; Night and day thou art safe, our cottage is hard by. Why bleat so after me? Why pull so at thy chain? Sleep-and at break of day I will come to thee again!" -As homeward through the lane I went with lazy feet, This song to myself did I oftentimes repeat; And it seemed, as I retraced the ballad line by line, That but half of it was hers, and one half of it was mine. Again, and once again, did I repeat the song; "Nay," said I, "more than half to the damsel must belong, For she looked with such a look, and she spake with such a tone, That I almost received her heart into my own." THE IDLE SHEPHERD-BOYS; * OR, DUNGEON-GHYLL FORCE.† A PASTORAL. THE valley rings with mirth and joy; The magpie chatters with delight; Or through the glittering vapours dart Beneath a rock, upon the grass, On pipes of sycamore they play * Written at Grasmere, 1800. + Ghyll, in the dialect of Cumberland and Westmoreland, is a short and, for the most part, a steep narrow valley, with a stream running through it. Force is the word universally employed in these dialects for waterfall. It seems they have no work to do, Or that their work is done.-Edit. 1815. And thus, as happy as the day, Along the river's stony marge A thousand lambs are on the rocks, That plaintive cry! which up the hill Said Walter, leaping from the ground, They leapt they ran-and when they came. Seeing that he should lose the prize, "Stop!" to his comrade Walter cries— Cross, if you dare, where I shall cross- And followed as he led.* * Now cross where I shall cross-come on, And follow me where I shall lead The other took him at his word, But did not like the deed.-Edit. 1815. It was a spot which you may see Into a chasm a mighty block Hath fallen, and made a bridge of rock : The gulf is deep below; And, in a basin black and small, Receives a lofty waterfall. With staff in hand across the cleft When list! he hears a piteous moan— A lamb, that in the pool is pent The lamb had slipped into the stream, His dam had seen him when he fell, She saw him down the torrent borne ; And, while with all a mother's love She from the lofty rocks above Sent forth a cry forlorn, The lamb, still swimming round and round, Made answer to that plaintive sound. When he had learnt what thing it was, The Boy recovered heart, and told He drew it from the troubled pool,* Into their arms the lamb they took, Whose life and limbs the flood had spared; + Then up the steep ascent they hied, And placed him at his mother's side; And gently did the Bard Those idle Shepherd-boys upbraid, And bade them better mind their trade. TO À BUTTERFLY.‡ I'VE watched you now a full half-hour, I know not if you sleep or feed. * He drew it gently from the pool.-Edit. 1815. † Said they, he's neither maimed nor scarred.-Edit. 1815. Written at Grasmere, 1802. |