« ZurückWeiter »
These Tourists, Heaven preserve us !' needs must live
butterflies to wheel about
* This Poem was intended to be the concluding poem of a series of pastorals, the scene of which was laid among the mountains of Cumberland and Westmoreland. I mention this to apologise: for the abruptness with which the poem begins.
But, for that moping son of Idleness
Of carded wool which the old Man had piled
'Twas one well known to him in former days, A Shepherd-lad: who ere his thirteenth year Had chang'd his calling, with the mariners A fellow-mariner, and so had fared Through twenty seasons; but he had been rear'd Among the mountains, and he in his heart Was half a Shepherd on the stormy seas. Oft in the piping shrouds had Leonard heard The tones of waterfalls, and inland sounds Of caves and trees; and when the regular wind Between the tropics fill'd the steady sail And blew with the same breath through days and weeks, Lengthening invisibly its weary line