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Right opposite to Dungeon-Gill, Seeing, that he should lose the prize, “ Stop!” to his comrade Walter cries-James stopp'd with no good will : Said Walter then, “ Your task is here, 'Twill keep you working half a year.


Till you have cross'd where I shall cross,
Say that you'll neither sleep nor eat."
James proudly took him at his word,
But did not like the feat.
It was a spot, which you may see
If ever you to Langdale go :
Into a chasm a mighty Block
Hath fallen, and made a bridge of rock;
The gulph is deep below,
And in a bason black and small
Receives a lofty Waterfall.


And now,

With staff in hand across the cleft
The Challenger began his march;


eyes and feet, hath gain'd The middle of the arch. When list! he hears a piteous moanAgain! his heart within him diesHis pulse is stopp'd, his breath is lost, He totters, pale as any ghost, And, looking down, he spies A Lamb, that in the pool is pent Within that black and frightful rent.


The Lamb had slipp'd into the stream,
And safe without a bruise or wound
The Cataract had borne him down
Into the gulph profound.
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,
That sent this rueful cry; I

The Boy recover'd heart, and told
The sight which he had seen.
Both gladly now deferr'd their task;
Nor was there wanting other aid-
A Poet, one who loves the brooks
Far better than the sages' books,
By chance had thither stray'd ;
And there the helpless Lamb he found
By those huge rocks encompass'd round.

He drew it gently from the pool,
And brought it forth into the light :
The Shepherds met him with his charge
An unexpected sight!
Into their arms the Lamb they took,
Said they, “ He's neither maim'd nor scarr'd"-

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.

up the


'Tis said, that some have died for love :
And here and there a church-yard grave is found
In the cold North's unhallow'd ground,
Because the wretched man himself had slain,
His love was such a grievous pain.
And there is one whom I five


have known; He dwells alone Upon Helvellyn's side. He loved-The pretty Barbara died, And thus he makes his moan : Three

years had Barbara in her grave been laid When thus his moan he made.

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