Had done so many offices about him, Brother Was gone to sea, and he was left alone, Stolen from his cheek; he drooped, and pined, and pined 340 Leonard. But these are all the graves of full-grown men! Priest. Ay, Sir, that passed away: we took him to us; He was the child of all the dale he lived Three months with one, and six months with another; 346 And wanted neither food, nor clothes, nor love: moved! Forgive me, Sir: before I spoke to you, I judged you most unkindly. Leonard. How did he die at last? But this Youth, 355 One sweet May-morning, (It will be twelve years since when Spring returns) He had gone forth among the new-dropped lambs, With two or three companions, whom their course 360 Of occupation led from height to height PILLAR. 365 Upon its aëry summit crowned with heath, The loiterer, not unnoticed by his comrades, 370 Lay stretched at ease; but, passing by the place On their return, they found that he was gone. No ill was feared; till one of them by chance Entering, when evening was far spent, the house Which at that time was James's home, there learned 375 That nobody had seen him all that day: after 381 I buried him, poor Youth, and there he lies! You say that he saw many happy years? Leonard. And all went well with him? Priest. If he had one, the youth had twenty homes. 386 Leonard. And you believe, then, that his mind was easy? Priest. Yes, long before he died, he found that time Is a true friend to sorrow; and, unless His thoughts were turned on Leonard's luckless fortune, 390 He talked about him with a cheerful love. Leonard. He could not come to an unhallowed end! Priest. Nay, God forbid!-You recollect I mentioned 394 A habit which disquietude and grief rades, He there had fallen asleep; that in his sleep headlong: 400 And so no doubt he perished. When the Youth Fell, in his hand he must have grasped, we think, His shepherd's staff; for on that Pillar of rock It had been caught mid-way; and there for years It hung; and mouldered there. The Priest here endedThe Stranger would have thanked him, but he felt 406 A gushing from his heart, that took away silence; And Leonard, when they reached the church yard gate, 409 As the Priest lifted up the latch, turned round, — And, looking at the grave, he said, "My Bro ther!" The Vicar did not hear the words: and now He pointed towards his dwelling-place, en treating That Leonard would partake his homely fare: The other thanked him with an earnest voice; But added, that, the evening being calm, 416 He would pursue his journey. So they parted. It was not long ere Leonard reached a grove That overhung the road: he there stopped short, 419 And, sitting down beneath the trees, reviewed All that the Priest had said: his early years Were, with him:- his long absence, cherished hopes, And thoughts which had been his an hour before, All pressed on him with such a weight, that now, This vale, where he had been so happy, seemed them; 430 And adding, with a hope to be forgiven, That it was from the weakness of his heart He had not dared to tell him who he was. This done, he went on shipboard, and is now A. seaman, a grey-headed Mariner. 435 1800. II. ARTEGAL AND ELIDURE. (SEE THE CHRONICLE OF GEOFFREY OF MONMOUTH, AND MILTON'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND.) WHERE be the temples which in Britain's Isle, They sank, delivered o'er To fatal dissolution; and, I ween, No vestige then was left that such had ever been. Nathless, a British record (long concealed And Albion's giants quelled, 15 A brood whom no civility could melt, "Who never tasted grace, and goodness ne'er had felt." By brave Corineus aided, he subdued, And pleasure's sumptuous bowers; 20 |