They played like two young ravens on the

crags:

Then they could write, ay and speak too, as well
As many of their betters-and for Leonard!
The very night before he went away,
In my own house I put into his hand
A Bible, and I'd wager house and field
That, if he is alive, he has it yet.

LEONARD.

It seems, these Brothers have not lived to be A comfort to each other

PRIEST.

That they might

Live to such end, is what both old and young
In this our valley all of us have wished,
And what, for my part, I have often prayed:
But Leonard-

LEONARD.

Then James still is left among you?

PRIEST.

'Tis of the elder brother I am speaking: They had an uncle;-he was at that time A thriving man, and trafficked on the seas:

And, but for that same uncle, to this hour
Leonard had never handled rope or shroud:
For the boy loved the life which we lead here,
And though of unripe years, a stripling only,
His soul was knit to this his native soil.
But, as I said, old Walter was too weak
To strive with such a torrent; when he died,
The estate and house were sold; and all their
sheep,

A pretty flock, and which, for aught I know,
Had clothed the Ewbanks for a thousand

years:

Well-all was gone, and they were destitute. And Leonard, chiefly for his Brother's sake, Resolved to try his fortune on the seas.

Twelve years are past since we had tidings from him.

If there were one among us who had heard
That Leonard Ewbank was come home again,
From the great Gavel,* down by Leeza's Banks,
And down the Enna, far as Egremont,
The day would be a joyous festival;

And those two bells of ours, which there you

see

Hanging in the open air-but, O good, Sir!

*The Great Gavel is one of the highest of the Cumberland mountains.

The Leeza is a river which flows into the Lake of Ennerdale.

This is sad talk-they'll never sound for him—
Living or dead.-When last we heard of him,
He was in slavery among the Moors

Upon the Barbary Coast.-'Twas not a little
That would bring down his spirit; and no doubt,
Before it ended in his death, the Youth
Was sadly crossed-Poor Leonard! when we
parted,

He took me by the hand, and said to me,
If e'er he should grow rich he would return,
To live in peace upon his father land,

And lay his bones among us.

LEONARD.

If that day

Should come, 'twould needs be a glad day for

him;

He would himself, no doubt, be happy then
As any that should meet him-

PRIEST.

Happy! Sir

LEONARD.

You said his kindred all were in their graves, And that he had one Brother

PRIEST.

That is bu

A fellow tale of sorrow. From his youth
James, though not sickly, yet was delicate;
And Leonard being always by his side
Had done so many offices about him,
That, though he was not of a timid nature,
Yet still the spirit of a mountain boy

In him was somewhat checked; and, when his
Brother

Was gone to sea, and he was left alone,
The little colour that he had was soon

Stolen from his cheek; he drooped, and pined, and pined

LEONARD.

But these are all the graves of full-grown men'

PRIEST.

Ay, Sir, that passed away: we took him to us;
He was the child of all the dale-he lived
Three months wi.h one, and six months with
another;

And wanted neither food, nor clothes, nor love:
And many, many happy days were his.
But, whether blithe or sad, 'tis my belief
His absent Brother still was at his heart.
And, when he dwelt beneath our roof, we found
(A practice till this time unknown to him)
That often, rising from his bed at night,

He in his sleep would walk about, and sleeping

He sought his brother Leonard.-You are

moved!

Forgive me, Sir: before I spoke to you,

I judged you most unkindly.

LEONARD.

But this Youth,

How did he die at last?

PRIEST.

One sweet May morning,

(It will be twelve years since when Spring re

turns)

He had gone forth among the new-dropped

lambs,

With two or three companions, whom their

course

Of occupation led from height to height
Under a cloudless sun-till he, at length,
Through weariness, or, haply, to indulge
The humour of the moment, lagged behind.
You see yon precipice ;-it wears the shape
Of a vast building made of many crags;
And in the midst is one particular rock
That rises like a column from the vale,
Whence by our shepherds it is called THE
PILLAR.

Upon its aery summit crowned with heath,