235

Should pass into a stranger's hand, I think
That I could not lie quiet in my grave.
Our lot is a hard lot; the sun himself
Has scarcely been more diligent than I;
And I have lived to be a fool at last
To my own family. An evil man
That was, and made an evil choice, if he
Were false to us; and if he were not false,
There are ten thousand to whom loss like
this

Had been no sorrow. I forgive him—but 'T were better to be dumb, than to talk thus.

241

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. 335
I will relate to thee some little part
Of our two histories; 't will 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

341

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 365 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 loath

To give their bodies to the family mould. 370 I wished that thou should'st live the life they lived.

But 't is a long time to look back, my son, And see so little gain from threescore years.

These fields were burdened when they came to me;

375

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,

380

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

Performed all kinds of labor for his sheep, And for the land his small inheritance. And to that hollow dell from time to time Did he repair, to build the fold of which 461 His flock had need. 'T is not forgotten yet The pity which was then in every heart For the old man-and 't is believed by all That many and many a day he thither

went,

And never lifted up a single stone.

465

He at the building of this sheepfold wrought,

And left the work unfinished when he died. Three years, or little more, did Isabel Survive her husband: at her death the estate

Was sold, and went into a stranger's hand. The cottage which was named The Evening Star 476

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

480 Of the unfinished sheepfold may be seen Beside the boisterous brook of Greenhead Ghyll.