A lamb, a wether, and a ewe;— I had but only one: And here it lies upon my arm, To-day I fetched it from the rock; It is the last of all my flock." 1798. XXIII. REPENTANCE. A PASTORAL BALLAD. [WRITTEN at Town-end, Grasmere. Suggested by the conversation of our next neighbour, Margaret Ashburner.] THE fields which with covetous spirit we sold, Could we but have been as contented as they. When the troublesome Tempter beset us, said I, 'Let him come, with his purse proudly grasped in his hand; But, Allan, be true to me, Allan,-we'll die Before he shall go with an inch of the land!' There dwelt we, as happy as birds in their bowers; We could do what we liked with the land, it was ours; But now we are strangers, go early or late; When I walk by the hedge on a bright summer's day, Or sit in the shade of my grandfather's tree, A stern face it puts on, as if ready to say, 'What ails you, that you must come creeping to me!' With our pastures about us, we could not be sad; Oh, ill-judging sire of an innocent son Who must now be a wanderer! but peace to that strain! Think of evening's repose when our labour was done, The sabbath's return; and its leisure's soft chain! And in sickness, if night had been sparing of sleep, How cheerful, at sunrise, the hill where I stood, Looking down on the kine, and our treasure of sheep That besprinkled the field; 'twas like youth in my blood! Now I cleave to the house, and am dull as a snail; And, oftentimes, hear the church-bell with a sigh, That follows the thought-We've no land in the vale, Save six feet of earth where our forefathers lie! 1804. XXIV. THE AFFLICTION OF MARGARET [WRITTEN at Town-end, Grasmere. This was taken from the case of a poor widow who lived in the town of Penrith. Her sorrow was well known to Mrs. Wordsworth, to my Sister, and, I believe, to the whole town. She kept a shop, and when she saw a stranger passing by, she was in the habit of going out into the street to enquire of him after her son.] I. WHERE art thou, my beloved Son, Where art thou, worse to me than dead? II. Seven years, alas! to have received To have despaired, have hoped, believed III. He was among the prime in worth, If things ensued that wanted grace, What power IV. Ah! little doth the young-one dream, VOL. I. V. Neglect me! no, I suffered long From that ill thought; and, being blind, VI. My Son, if thou be humbled, poor, VII. Alas! the fowls of heaven have wings, All that is left to comfort thee. VIII. Perhaps some dungeon hears thee groan, Or hast been summoned to the deep, IX. I look for ghosts; but none will force X. My apprehensions come in crowds; XI. Beyond participation lie My troubles, and beyond relief: |