If I judge ill for thee, but it seems good
That thou should'st 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 could'st 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 May'st 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 Befal 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 kissèd 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 Fell on him, so that he was driven at last To seek a hiding-place beyond the seas.
There is a comfort in the strength of love; 'Twill make a thing endurable, which else Would overset the brain, or break the heart: I have conversed with more than one who well Remember the old Man, and what he was Years after he had heard this heavy news. His bodily frame had been from youth to age 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 labour 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 His flock had need. 'Tis not forgotten yet The pity which was then in every heart For the old Man-and 'tis believed by all That many and many a day he thither went, And never lifted up a single stone.
There, by the Sheep-fold, sometimes was he seen Sitting alone, or with his faithful Dog,
Then old, beside him, lying at his feet.
The length of full seven years, from time to time, He at the building of this Sheep-fold wrought, And left the work unfinished when he died.
Would break the heart;-old Michael found it so.-Edit. 1815.
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 Is gone the ploughshare has been through the ground On which it stood; great changes have been wrought In all the neighbourhood :—yet the oak is left
beside their door; and the remains Of the unfinished Sheep-fold may be seen
Beside the boisterous brook of Green-head Ghyll.
"WITH sacrifice before the rising morn Vows have I made by fruitless hope inspired; And from the infernal Gods, 'mid shades forlorn Of night, my slaughtered Lord have I required: * Celestial pity I again implore ;-
Restore him to my sight-great Jove, restore!"
So speaking, and by fervent love endowed
With faith, the Suppliant heavenward lifts her hands; While, like the sun emerging from a cloud,
Her countenance brightens-and her eye expands ; Her bosom heaves and spreads, her stature grows; And she expects the issue in repose.
O terror! what hath she perceived?-O joy! What doth she look on ?-whom doth she behold?
* With sacrifice, before the rising morn
Performed, my slaughtered lord have I required,
And in thick darkness, amid shades forlorn,
Him of the infernal Gods have I desired.-Edit. 1815.
Her Hero slain upon the beach of Troy? His vital presence? his corporeal mould ? It is if sense deceive her not-'tis He! And a God leads him, winged Mercury !
Mild Hermes spake-and touched her with his wand That calms all fear; "Such grace hath crowned thy
Laodamía! that at Jove's command
Thy Husband walks the paths of upper air: He comes to tarry with thee three hours' space; Accept the gift, behold him face to face!"
Forth sprang the impassioned Queen her Lord to clasp; Again that consummation she essayed ; But unsubstantial Form eludes her grasp As often as that eager grasp was made. The Phantom parts-but parts to re-unite, And re-assume his place before her sight.
"Protesiláus, lo! thy guide is gone! Confirm, I pray, the vision with thy voice: This is our palace,―yonder is thy throne; Speak, and the floor thou tread'st on will rejoice. Not to appal me have the gods bestowed This precious boon; and blest a sad abode."
"Great Jove, Laodamía! doth not leave His gifts imperfect :-Spectre though I be, I am not sent to scare thee or deceive; But in reward of thy fidelity.
And something also did my worth obtain ; For fearless virtue bringeth boundless gain.
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