It is a work for me. But, lay one stone Here, 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;

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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, 395 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 To leave me, Luke: thou hast been bound to

He to that valley took his way, and there Wrought at the Sheep-fold. Meantime Luke began

To slacken in his duty; and, at length,
He in the dissolute city gave himself
To evil courses: ignominy and shame 445
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;

'T will make a thing endurable, which else Would overset the brain, or break the heart:

450 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

And all the ways of men, so vain and melancholy.

But, as it sometimes chanceth, from the might

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Of joy in minds that can no further go,
As high as we have, mounted in delight
In our dejection do we sink as low;
To me that morning did it happen so;
And fears and fancies thick upon me came;
Dim sadness and blind thoughts, I knew
not, nor could name.

I heard the sky-lark warbling in the sky;
And I bethought me of the playful hare: 30
Even such a happy Child of earth am I;
Even as these blissful creatures do I fare;
Far from the world I walk, and from all
care;

But there may come another day to me Solitude, pain of heart, distress, and poverty.

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My whole life I have lived in pleasant thought,

As if life's business were a summer mood;
As if all needful things would come unsought
To genial faith, still rich in genial good;
But how can He expect that others should 40

Build for him, sow for him, and at his call Love him, who for himself will take no heed at all?

I thought of Chatterton, the marvellous Boy, The sleepless Soul that perished in his pride; Of Him who walked in glory and in joy 45 Following his plough, along the mountainside:

By our own spirits are we deified:

We Poets in our youth begin in gladness; But thereof come in the end despondency and madness.

Now, whether it were by peculiar grace, 50 A leading from above, a something given, Yet it befell that, in this lonely place, When I with these untoward thoughts had striven,

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Beside a pool bare to the eye of heaven
I saw a Man before me unawares:
The oldest man he seemed that ever wore
grey hairs.

As a huge stone is sometimes seen to lie
Couched on the bald top of an eminence;
Wonder to all who do the same espy,
By what means it could thither come, and
whence;

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So that it seems a thing endued with sense: Like a sea-beast crawled forth, that on a shelf

Of rock or sand reposeth, there to sun itself;

Such seemed this Man, not all alive nor dead,
Nor all asleep in his extreme old age: 65
His body was bent double, feet and head
Coming together in life's pilgrimage;

As if some dire constraint of pain, or rage
Of sickness felt by him in times long past,
A more than human weight upon his frame
had cast.

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Himself he propped, limbs, body, and pale face,

Upon a long grey staff of shaven wood:
And, still as I drew near with gentle pace,
Upon the margin of that moorish flood
Motionless as a cloud the old Man stood, 75
That heareth not the loud winds when they
call;

And moveth all together, if it move at all.

At length, himself unsettling, he the pond
Stirred with his staff, and fixedly did look
Upon the muddy water, which he conned, 80
As if he had been reading in a book:
And now a stranger's privilege I took;
And, drawing to his side, to him did say,
"This morning gives us promise of a glorious
day.'

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Thou art a dew-drop, which the morn brings forth,

Ill fitted to sustain unkindly shocks,

Or to be trailed along the soiling earth;

A gem that glitters while it lives,
And no forewarning gives;

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But, at the touch of wrong, without a strife Slips in a moment out of life.

AT THE GRAVE OF BURNS

1807

I SHIVER, Spirit fierce and bold,
At thought of what I now behold:
As vapours breathed from dungeons cold
Strike pleasure dead,

So sadness comes from out the mould
Where Burns is laid.

And have I then thy bones so near,
And thou forbidden to appear?
As if it were thyself that 's here
I shrink with pain;

And both my wishes and my fear
Alike are vain.

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10

Off weight- nor press on weight! — away Dark thoughts!-they came, but not to stay;

With chastened feelings would I pay
The tribute due

To him, and aught that hides his clay
From mortal view.

Fresh as the flower, whose modest worth
He sang, his genius 'glinted' forth,
Rose like a star that touching earth,
For so it seems,

Doth glorify its humble birth
With matchless beams.

The piercing eye, the thoughtful brow,
The struggling heart, where be they now? -
Full soon the Aspirant of the plough,
The prompt, the brave,

Slept, with the obscurest, in the low

And silent grave.

I mourned with thousands, but as one More deeply grieved, for He was gone Whose light I hailed when first it shone, And showed my youth

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20

25

30

How Verse may build a princely throne 35
On humble truth.

Alas! where'er the current tends,
Regret pursues and with it blends, -

Huge Criffel's hoary top ascends

Through Nature's skill,

May even by contraries be joined More closely still.

The tear will start, and let it flow;

Thou 'poor Inhabitant below,’
At this dread moment

Might we together

even so

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This little bay; a quiet road

That holds in shelter thy Abode In truth together do ye seem

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Have sate and talked where gowans blow, Or on wild heather.

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Like something fashioned in a dream;
Such Forms as from their covert peep
When earthly cares are laid asleep!
But, O fair Creature! in the light
Of common day, so heavenly bright,
I bless Thee, Vision as thou art,
I bless thee with a human heart;
God shield thee to thy latest years!
Thee, neither know I, nor thy peers;
And yet my eyes are filled with tears.
With earnest feeling I shall pray
For thee when I am far away:
For never saw I mien, or face,

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20

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Ripening in perfect innocence.

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70

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Here scattered, like a random seed,
Remote from men, Thou dost not need
The embarrassed look of shy distress,
And maidenly shamefacedness:
Thou wear'st upon thy forehead clear
The freedom of a Mountaineer:
A face with gladness overspread!
Soft smiles, by human kindness bred!
And seemliness complete, that sways
Thy courtesies, about thee plays;
With no restraint, but such as springs
From quick and eager visitings
Of thoughts that lie beyond the reach
Of thy few words of English speech:
A bondage sweetly brooked, a strife.
That gives thy gestures grace and life!
So have I, not unmoved in mind,
Seen birds of tempest-loving kind
Thus beating up against the wind.

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35

40

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Sighing I turned away; but ere

Night fell I heard, or seemed to hear,

80

What hand but would a garland cull For thee who art so beautiful? O happy pleasure! here to dwell Beside thee in some heathy dell; Adopt your homely ways, and dress, A Shepherd, thou a Shepherdess! But I could frame a wish for thee More like a grave reality: Thou art to me but as a wave Of the wild sea; and I would have Some claim upon thee, if I could, Though but of common neighbourhood. What joy to hear thee, and to see! Thy elder Brother I would be, Thy Father anything to thee!

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