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ore in earlier life: bar wa

contentedness of se

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and torpid; paying in th ..

af penalty it were,

Benendthrift feats, excesses of his prin
Fed the old man, for I pitied him.

Ja it was, I own, to hold discour

With one so slow in gathering up his thoughts,

But he was a cheap pleasure to my eyes;
Mild, inoffensive, ready in his way,

And useful to his utmost power: and there

Our Housewife knew full well what she possessed!

He was her vassal of all labour, tilled

Her garden, from the pasture fetched her kine;
And, one among the orderly array

Of haymakers, beneath the burning sun
Maintained his place; or heedfully pursued
His course, on errands bound to other vales,
Leading sometimes an inexperienced child,
Too young for any profitable task.

So moved he like a shadow that performed
Substantial service. Mark me now, and learn
For what reward. The moon her monthly round
Hath not completed since our dame, the queen
Of this one cottage and this lonely dale,

Into my little sanctuary rushed,—

Voice to a rueful treble humanized,

And features in deplorable dismay:

I treat the matter lightly, but alas!

It is most serious. From mid-noon the rain

Had fallen in torrents; all the mountain-tops

Were hidden, and black vapours coursed their sides; This had I seen, and saw; but, till she spake,

Was wholly ignorant that my ancient friend

Who at her bidding, early and alone,

Had clomb aloft to delve the moorland turf
For winter fuel-to his noontide meal

Came not, and now perchance upon the heights
Lay at the mercy of this raging storm.

Inhuman!' said I, was an old man's life
Not worth the trouble of a thought ?—alas!
This notice comes too late.' With joy I saw
Her husband enter, from a distant vale.
We sallied forth together; found the tools
Which the neglected veteran had dropped,
But through all quarters looked for him in vain.
We shouted-but no answer! Darkness fell
Without remission of the blast or shower,

And fears for our own safety drove us home.
I, who weep little, did, I will confess,
The moment I was seated here alone,
Honour my little cell with some few tears
Which anger and resentment could not dry.
All night the storm endured; and, soon as help
Had been collected from the neighbouring vale,
With morning we renewed our quest: the wind
Was fallen, the rain abated, but the hills

Lay shrouded in impenetrable mist;
And long and hopelessly we sought in vain,
Till, chancing on that lofty ridge to pass
A heap of ruin, almost without walls

And wholly without roof (in ancient time
It was a chapel, small edifice,

In which the peasants of these lonely dells

For worship met upon that central height)----
Chancing to pass this wreck of stones, we there
Espied at last the object of our search,
Couched in a nook, and seemingly alive.

It would have moved you, had you seen the guise
In which he occupied his chosen bed,
Lying full three parts buried among tufts
Of heath-plant under and above him strown,
To baffle, as he might, the watery storm:
And there we found him breathing peaceably,
Snug as a child that hides itself in sport
'Mid a green haycock in a sunny field.
We spake he made reply, but would not stir

At our entreaty; less from want of power
Than apprehension and bewildering thoughts.
So was he lifted gently from the ground,