Near the tumultuous brook of Greenhead Ghyll，
In that deep valley，Michael had designed
To build a Sheep-fold；and，before he heard➁
The tidings of his melancholy loss，
For this same purpose he had gathered up
A heap of stones，which by the streamlet’s edge
Lay thrown together，ready for the work.
With Luke that evening thitherward he walked；
And soon as they had reached the place he stopped，
And thus the old Man spake to him:—‘My Son，
To-morrow thou wilt leave me: with full heart
I look upon thee，for thou art the same
That wert a promise to me ere thy birth，
And all thy life hast been my daily joy.
I will relate to thee some little part
Of our two histories；’twill do thee good
When thou art from me，even if I should touch
On things thou canst not know of.—After thou
First cam’st into the world—as oft befalls
To new-born infants—thou didst sleep away
Two days，and blessings from thy Father’s tongue
Then fell upon thee. Day by day passed on，
And still I loved thee with increasing love.
Never to living ear came 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
I but repay a gift which I myself
Received at others’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，
And see so little gain from threescore years.
These fields were burthened when they came to me；
Till I was forty years of age，not more
Than half of my inheritance was mine.
I toiled and toiled；God blessed me in my work，
And till these three weeks past the land was free➂.
—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 shouldst go.’
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楼主
