selves Were sitting at the door, "Thou must not go: We have no other Child but thee to lose, For if thou leave thy Father he will die." Did she bring forth, and all together sat Like hapny people round a Christmas fire. 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, tongue Then fell upon thee. Day by day passed on, And still I loved thee with increasing love. Never to living ear cam 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, 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 Have played together, nor with me didst thou Lack any pleasure which a boy can know." Luke had a manly heart; but at these words He sobbed aloud. The old Man grasped his hand, And said, "Nay, do not take it so I see That these are things of which I need not speak. -Even to the utmost I have been to thee A kind and a good Father: and herein 1 but repay a gift which I myself Received at other's hands; for, though now old. Beyond the common life of man, I still Remember them who loved me in my youth. Both of them sleep together: here they lived, As all their Forefathers had done; and when At length their time was come, they were not loth To give their bodies to the family mould. I wished that thou shouldst live the life they lived: But, 'tis a long time to look back, my Son, Till I was forty years of age, not more 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 should'st 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 Thy heart these two weeks has been beating fast What will be left to us!-But, I forget And God will strengthen thee; amid all fear 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 '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 The first stone of the Sheep-fold. 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 seem ing peace, Ere the night fell :-- with morrow's dawn the Boy Began his journey, and when he had reached Came forth with wishes and with farewell prayers, That followed him till he was out of sight. A good report did from their Kinsman Sometimes when he could find a leisure hour He to that valley took his way, and there XXXIII. Wrought at the Sheep-fold. Meantime Luke THE WIDOW ON WINDERMERE began To slacken in his duty; and, at length, There is a comfort in the strength of love; 'Twill make a thing endurable, which else Would overset the brain, or break the heart: 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, There, by the Sheep-fold, sometimes was he seen Sitting alone, or with his faithful Dog, He at the building of this Sheep-fold wrought, And left the work unfinished when he died. Was sold, and went into a stranger's hand. Is gone the ploughshare has been through the ground On which it stood: great changes have been wrought In all the neighborhood:-yet the oak is left That grew beside their door; and the remains Of the unfinished Sheep-fold may be seen Beside the boisterous brook of Green-head Ghyll 1800. |