Poems in Two Volumes Volume Ii Part 5

His Mother, too, no doubt, above Her other Children him did love: For, was she here, or was she there, She thought of him with constant care, And more than Mother's love. 30

And proud she was of heart, when clad In crimson stockings, tartan plaid, And bonnet with a feather gay, To Kirk he on the sabbath day Went hand in hand with her.

A Dog, too, had he; not for need, But one to play with and to feed; Which would have led him, if bereft Of company or friends, and left Without a better guide. 40

And then the bagpipes he could blow; And thus from house to house would go, And all were pleas'd to hear and see; For none made sweeter melody Than did the poor blind Boy.

Yet he had many a restless dream; Both when he heard the Eagles scream, And when he heard the torrents roar, And heard the water beat the sh.o.r.e Near which their Cottage stood. 50

Beside a lake their Cottage stood, Not small like ours, a peaceful flood; But one of mighty size, and strange; That, rough or smooth, is full of change, And stirring in its bed.

For to this Lake, by night and day, The great Sea-water finds its way Through long, long windings of the hills; And drinks up all the pretty rills And rivers large and strong: 60

Then hurries back the road it came-- Returns, on errand still the same; This did it when the earth was new; And this for evermore will do, As long as earth shall last.

And, with the coming of the Tide, Come Boats and s.h.i.+ps, that sweetly ride, Between the woods and lofty rocks; And to the Shepherds with their Flocks Bring tales of distant Lands. 70

And of those tales, whate'er they were, The blind Boy always had his share; Whether of mighty Towns, or Vales With warmer suns and softer gales, Or wonders of the Deep.

Yet more it pleased him, more it stirr'd, When from the water-side he heard The shouting, and the jolly cheers, The bustle of the mariners In stillness or in storm. 80

But what do his desires avail?

For He must never handle sail; Nor mount the mast, nor row, nor float In Sailor's s.h.i.+p or Fisher's boat Upon the rocking waves.

His Mother often thought, and said, What sin would be upon her head If she should suffer this: "My Son, Whate'er you do, leave this undone; The danger is so great." 90

Thus lived he by Loch Levin's side Still sounding with the sounding tide, And heard the billows leap and dance, Without a shadow of mischance, Till he was ten years old.

When one day (and now mark me well, You soon shall know how this befel) He's in a vessel of his own, On the swift water hurrying down Towards the mighty Sea. 100

In such a vessel ne'er before Did human Creature leave the sh.o.r.e: If this or that way he should stir, Woe to the poor blind Mariner!

For death will be his doom.

Strong is the current; but be mild, Ye waves, and spare the helpless Child!

If ye in anger fret or chafe, A Bee-hive would be s.h.i.+p as safe As that in which he sails. 110

But say, what was it? Thought of fear!

Well may ye tremble when ye hear!

--A Household Tub, like one of those Which women use to wash their clothes, This carried the blind Boy.

Close to the water he had found This Vessel, push'd it from dry ground, Went into it; and, without dread, Following the fancies in his head, He paddled up and down. 120

A while he stood upon his feet; He felt the motion--took his seat; And dallied thus, till from the sh.o.r.e The tide retreating more and more Had suck'd, and suck'd him in.

And there he is in face of Heaven!

How rapidly the Child is driven!

The fourth part of a mile I ween He thus had gone, ere he was seen By any human eye. 130

But when he was first seen, oh me!

What shrieking and what misery!

For many saw; among the rest His Mother, she who loved him best, She saw her poor blind Boy.

But for the Child, the sightless Boy, It is the triumph of his joy!

The bravest Traveller in balloon, Mounting as if to reach the moon, Was never half so bless'd. 140

And let him, let him go his way, Alone, and innocent, and gay!

For, if good Angels love to wait On the forlorn unfortunate, This Child will take no harm.

But now the pa.s.sionate lament, Which from the crowd on sh.o.r.e was sent, The cries which broke from old and young In Gaelic, or the English tongue, Are stifled--all is still. 150

And quickly with a silent crew A Boat is ready to pursue; And from the sh.o.r.e their course they take, And swiftly down the running Lake They follow the blind Boy.

With sound the least that can be made They follow, more and more afraid, More cautious as they draw more near; But in his darkness he can hear, And guesses their intent. 160

"_Lei-gha--Lei-gha_"--then did he cry "_Lei-gha--Lei-gha_"--most eagerly; Thus did he cry, and thus did pray, And what he meant was, "Keep away, And leave me to myself!"

Alas! and when he felt their hands-- You've often heard of magic Wands, That with a motion overthrow A palace of the proudest shew, Or melt it into air. 170

So all his dreams, that inward light With which his soul had shone so bright, All vanish'd;--'twas a heartfelt cross To him, a heavy, bitter loss, As he had ever known.

But hark! a gratulating voice With which the very hills rejoice: 'Tis from the crowd, who tremblingly Had watch'd the event, and now can see That he is safe at last. 180

And then, when he was brought to land, Full sure they were a happy band, Which gathering round did on the banks Of that great Water give G.o.d thanks, And welcom'd the poor Child.

And in the general joy of heart The blind Boy's little Dog took part; He leapt about, and oft did kiss His master's hands in sign of bliss, With sound like lamentation. 190

But most of all, his Mother dear, She who had fainted with her fear, Rejoiced when waking she espies The Child; when she can trust her eyes, And touches the blind Boy.

She led him home, and wept amain, When he was in the house again: Tears flow'd in torrents from her eyes, She could not blame him, or chastise: She was too happy far. 200

Thus, after he had fondly braved The perilous Deep, the Boy was saved; And, though his fancies had been wild, Yet he was pleased, and reconciled To live in peace on sh.o.r.e.

_THE GREEN LINNET_.

The May is come again:--how sweet To sit upon my Orchard-seat!

And Birds and Flowers once more to greet, My last year's Friends together: My thoughts they all by turns employ; A whispering Leaf is now my joy, And then a Bird will be the toy That doth my fancy tether.

One have I mark'd, the happiest Guest In all this covert of the blest: 10 Hail to Thee, far above the rest In joy of voice and pinion, Thou, Linnet! in thy green array, Presiding Spirit here to-day, Dost lead the revels of the May, And this is thy dominion.

While Birds, and b.u.t.terflies, and Flowers Make all one Band of Paramours, Thou, ranging up and down the bowers, Art sole in thy employment; 20 A Life, a Presence like the Air, Scattering thy gladness without care, Too bless'd with any one to pair, Thyself thy own enjoyment.

Upon yon tuft of hazel trees, That twinkle to the gusty breeze, Behold him perch'd in ecstasies, Yet seeming still to hover; There! where the flutter of his wings Upon his back and body flings 30 Shadows and sunny glimmerings, That cover him all over.