Lyrical Ballads, With a Few Other Poems | Page 9

gold.
Light was my
sleep; my days in transport roll'd:
With thoughtless joy I stretch'd
along the shore
My father's nets, or watched, when from the fold

High o'er the cliffs I led my fleecy store,
A dizzy depth below! his
boat and twinkling oar.
My father was a good and pious man,
An honest man by honest
parents bred,
And I believe that, soon as I began
To lisp, he made
me kneel beside my bed,
And in his hearing there my prayers I said:

And afterwards, by my good father taught,
I read, and loved the
books in which I read;
For books in every neighbouring house I
sought,
And nothing to my mind a sweeter pleasure brought.

Can I forget what charms did once adorn
My garden, stored with
pease, and mint, and thyme,
And rose and lilly for the sabbath morn?

The sabbath bells, and their delightful chime;
The gambols and
wild freaks at shearing time;
My hen's rich nest through long grass
scarce espied;
The cowslip-gathering at May's dewy prime;
The
swans, that, when I sought the water-side,
From far to meet me came,
spreading their snowy pride.
The staff I yet remember which upbore
The bending body of my
active sire;
His seat beneath the honeyed sycamore
When the bees
hummed, and chair by winter fire;
When market-morning came, the
neat attire
With which, though bent on haste, myself I deck'd;
My
watchful dog, whose starts of furious ire,
When stranger passed, so
often I have check'd;
The red-breast known for years, which at my
casement peck'd.
The suns of twenty summers danced along,--
Ah! little marked, how
fast they rolled away:
Then rose a mansion proud our woods among,

And cottage after cottage owned its sway,
No joy to see a
neighbouring house, or stray
Through pastures not his own, the
master took;
My Father dared his greedy wish gainsay;
He loved
his old hereditary nook,
And ill could I the thought of such sad
parting brook.
But, when he had refused the proffered gold,
To cruel injuries he
became a prey,
Sore traversed in whate'er he bought and sold:
His
troubles grew upon him day by day,
Till all his substance fell into
decay.
His little range of water was denied;[2]
All but the bed
where his old body lay,
All, all was seized, and weeping, side by side,

We sought a home where we uninjured might abide.
Can I forget that miserable hour,
When from the last hill-top, my sire
surveyed,
Peering above the trees, the steeple tower,
That on his
marriage-day sweet music made?
Till then he hoped his bones might

there be laid,
Close by my mother in their native bowers:
Bidding
me trust in God, he stood and prayed,--
I could not pray:--through
tears that fell in showers,
Glimmer'd our dear-loved home, alas! no
longer ours!
There was a youth whom I had loved so long,
That when I loved him
not I cannot say.
'Mid the green mountains many and many a song

We two had sung, like little birds in May.
When we began to tire of
childish play
We seemed still more and more to prize each other:

We talked of marriage and our marriage day;
And I in truth did love
him like a brother,
For never could I hope to meet with such another.
His father said, that to a distant town
He must repair, to ply the artist's
trade.
What tears of bitter grief till then unknown!
What tender
vows our last sad kiss delayed!
To him we turned:--we had no other
aid.
Like one revived, upon his neck I wept,
And her whom he had
loved in joy, he said
He well could love in grief: his faith he kept;

And in a quiet home once more my father slept.
Four years each day with daily bread was blest,
By constant toil and
constant prayer supplied.
Three lovely infants lay upon my breast;

And often, viewing their sweet smiles, I sighed,
And knew not why.
My happy father died
When sad distress reduced the children's meal:

Thrice happy! that from him the grave did hide
The empty loom,
cold hearth, and silent wheel,
And tears that flowed for ills which
patience could not heal.
'Twas a hard change, an evil time was come;
We had no hope, and no
relief could gain.
But soon, with proud parade, the noisy drum
Beat
round, to sweep the streets of want and pain.
My husband's arms now
only served to strain
Me and his children hungering in his view:
In
such dismay my prayers and tears were vain:
To join those miserable
men he flew;
And now to the sea-coast, with numbers more, we drew.

There foul neglect for months and months we bore,
Nor yet the
crowded fleet its anchor stirred.
Green fields before us and our native
shore,
By fever, from polluted air incurred,
Ravage was made, for
which no knell was heard.
Fondly we wished, and wished away, nor
knew,
'Mid that long sickness, and those hopes deferr'd,
That
happier days we never more must view:
The parting signal streamed,
at last the land withdrew,
But from delay the summer calms were past.
On as we drove, the
equinoctial deep
Ran mountains--high before the howling blaft.
We
gazed with terror on the gloomy sleep
Of them that perished in the
whirlwind's