Near the tumultuous brook of Green-head

Ghyll,

In that deep valley, Michael had designed
To build a sheep-fold; and, before he heard
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 fire-side 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 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 shouldst 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 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;
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,
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 me
Only by links of love: when thou art gone,
What will be left to us!-But, I forget
My purposes. Lay now the corner-stone,
As I requested; and hereafter, Luke,
When thou art gone away, should evil men
Be thy companions, think of me, my Son,
And of this moment; hither turn thy thoughts,
And God will strengthen thee: amid all fear
And all temptation, Luke, I pray that thou
Mayst bear in mind the life thy Fathers lived,
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 kisséd him and wept; And to the house together they returned. -Hushed was that House in peace, or seeming peace,

Ere the night fell-with morrow's dawn the Boy

Began his journey, and when he had reached The public way, he put on a bold face;

And all the neighbours, as he passed their doors, Came forth with wishes and with farewell

prayers,

That followed him till he was out of sight.

A good report did from their kinsman come, Of Luke and his well-doing; and the Boy Wrote loving letters, full of wondrous news, Which, as the Housewife phrased it, were throughout

"The prettiest letters that were ever seen.'
Both parents read them with rejoicing hearts.
So, many months passed on: and once again
The Shepherd went about his daily work
With confident and cheerful thoughts; and now
Sometimes when he could find a leisure hour
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