The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth

seen,"

XI.

THE IDLE SHEPHERD-BOYS;

OR, DUNGEON-GHYLL FORCE.1

A PASTORAL.

[Composed 1800.-Published 1800.]

THE valley rings with mirth and joy;

"Their graves are green, they may be Among the hills the echoes play

The little Maid replied,

A never never ending song,
To welcome in the May.

"Twelve steps or more from my mother's The magpie chatters with delight;

door,

And they are side by side.

"My stockings there I often knit,
My kerchief there I hem;

And there upon the ground I sit,
And sing a song to them,

"And often after sun-set, Sir, When it is light and fair,

The mountain raven's youngling brood 40 Have left the mother and the nest; And they go rambling east and west In search of their own food;

Or through the glittering vapours dart 10
In very wantonness of heart.

Beneath a rock, upon the grass,
Two boys are sitting in the sun;

Their work, if any work they have,
Is out of mind-or done.

I take my little porringer,

And eat my supper there.

On pipes of sycamore they play

The fragments of a Christmas hymn;
Or with that plant which in our dale
We call stag-horn, or fox's tail,
Their rusty hats they trim:
And thus, as happy as the day,
Those Shepherds wear the time away.
Along the river's stony marge
The sand-lark chants a joyous song;
55 The thrush is busy in the wood,
And carols loud and strong.

"And when the ground was white with A thousand lambs are on the rocks,

All newly born! both earth and sky
Keep jubilee, and, more than all,
Those boys with their green coronal; 30
They never hear the cry,

1 Ghyll, in the dialect of Cumberland and Westmoreland, is a short and, for the most part, a steep narrow valley, with a stream running through it. Force is the word universally employed in these dialects for waterfall.

That plaintive cry! which up the hill
Comes from the depth of Dungeon-Ghyll.

Said Walter, leaping from the ground,
"Down to the stump of yon old yew
We'll for our whistles run a race."
-Away the shepherds flew ;

When he had learnt what thing it was,
That sent this rueful cry, I ween
The Boy recovered heart, and told
The sight which he had seen.
Both gladly now deferred their task;
Nor was there wanting other aid-
A Poet, one who loves the brooks

They leapt they ran-and when they Far better than the sages' books,

And there the helpless lamb he found
By those huge rocks encompassed round.

He drew it from the troubled pool,
And brought it forth into the light:
The Shepherds met him with his charge,
An unexpected sight!

Into their arms the lamb they took,
Whose life and limbs the flood had spared;
Then up the steep ascent they hied,
And placed him at his mother's side;
And gently did the Bard

Those idle Shepherd-boys upbraid,

And bade them better mind their trade.

XLI.

95*

"Now tell me, had you rather be," I said, and took him by the arm, "On Kilve's smooth shore, by the green sea,

Or here at Liswyn farm?"

In careless mood he looked at me,
While still I held him by the arm,
And said, "At Kilve I'd rather be
Than here at Liswyn farm."

"Now, little Edward, say why so:
My little Edward, tell me why."-
"I cannot tell, I do not know."-
"Why, this is strange," said I;

"For here are woods, hills smooth and Just half a week after, the wind sallied

Then did the boy his tongue unlock,

And eased his mind with this reply:

very next day

They went and they built up another.

-Some little I've seen of blind boisterous

works

By Christian disturbers more savage than

Turks,
Spirits busy to do and undo:

At remembrance whereof my blood some

times will flag;

Then, light-hearted Boys, to the top of the crag;

"At Kilve there was no weather-cock; 55 And I'll build up a giant with you.

And that's the reason why."

O dearest, dearest boy! my heart For better lore would seldom yearn,

Could I but teach the hundredth part Of what from thee I learn.

1 GREAT HOW is a single and conspicuous hill, which rises towards the foot of Thirlmere, on the western side of the beautiful dale of Legberthwaite, along the high road between Keswick and Ambleside.

Seemed to feast with head and ears; and his tail with pleasure shook. "Drink, pretty creature, drink," she said in such a tone

"What ails thee, young One? what? Why pull so at thy cord?

Is it not well with thee? well both for bed and board?

Thy plot of grass is soft, and green as grass can be ;

Rest, little young One, rest; what is't that aileth thee?

"What is it thou wouldst seek? What is wanting to thy heart?

Thy limbs, are they not strong? And beautiful thou art:

This grass is tender grass; these flowers they have no peers;

And that green corn all day is rustling in thy ears!

"If the sun be shining hot, do but stretch thy woollen chain,

This beech is standing by, its covert thou canst gain; 30 For rain and mountain-storms! the like thou need'st not fear,

The rain and storm are things that scarcely can come here.

"Rest, little young One, rest; thou hast forgot the day

When my father found thee first in places far away;

Many flocks were on the hills, but thou wert owned by none,

That I almost received her heart into my And thy mother from thy side for ever

own.

more was gone.

"Twas little Barbara Lewthwaite, a child "He took thee in his arms, and in pity

of beauty rare!

I watched them with delight, they were a lovely pair.

Now with her empty can the Maiden turned away: But ere ten yards were gone her foot

steps did she stay.

have been.

"Alas, the mountain-tops that look so green and fair!

XV.

TO H. C.

SIX YEARS OLD.

[Composed 1802.-Published 1807.]

O THOU! whose fancies from afar are brought;

Who of thy words dost make a mock
apparel,

And fittest to unutterable thought
The breeze-like motion and the self-born
carol;

Thou faery voyager! that dost float
In such clear water, that thy boat
May rather seem

To brood on air than on an earthly stream;

I've heard of fearful winds and darkness Suspended in a stream as clear as sky,

that come there;

is hard by.

-our cottage

Where earth and heaven do make one

I thought of times when Pain might be thy guest,

Lord of thy house and hospitality;

Why bleat so after me? Why pull so at And Grief, uneasy lover! never rest

thy chain?

And it seemed, as I retraced the ballad line by line,

That but half of it was hers, and one half of it was mine.

Again, and once again, did I repeat the song;

65 "Nay,” said I, "more than half to the damsel must belong,

But when she sate within the touch of thee.

O too industrious folly!

Nature will either end thee quite;
O vain and causeless melancholy!
Or, lengthening out thy season of delight,
Preserve for thee, by individual right,
A young lamb's heart among the full-
grown flocks.

What hast thou to do with sorrow,
Or the injuries of to-morrow?
Thou art a dew-drop, which the morn
brings forth,

Ill fitted to sustain unkindly shocks,
Or to be trailed along the soiling earth ;
A gem that glitters while it lives,

For she looked with such a look, and she And no forewarning gives;

spake with such a tone,

That I almost received her heart into my

own."

But, at the touch of wrong, without a

strife

Slips in a moment out of life.

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