Lyrical Ballads with Other Poems, 1800, Volume 2. William Wordsworth

on the seas.

        'Tis now twelve years since we had tidings from him.

        If there was one among us who had heard

        That Leonard Ewbank was come home again,

        From the great Gavel3, down by Leeza's Banks,

        And down the Enna, far as Egremont,

        The day would be a very festival,

        And those two bells of ours, which there you see

        Hanging in the open air – but, O good Sir!

        This is sad talk – they'll never sound for him

        Living or dead – When last we heard of him

        He was in slavery among the Moors

        Upon the Barbary Coast – 'Twas not a little

        That would bring down his spirit, and, no doubt,

        Before it ended in his death, the Lad

        Was sadly cross'd – Poor Leonard! when we parted,

        He took me by the hand and said to me,

        If ever the day came when he was rich,

        He would return, and on his Father's Land

        He would grow old among us.

LEONARD

                                   If that day

        Should come, 'twould needs be a glad day for him;

        He would himself, no doubt, be as happy then

        As any that should meet him —

PRIEST

                                      Happy, Sir —

LEONARD

        You said his kindred all were in their graves,

        And that he had one Brother —

PRIEST

                                      That is but

        A fellow tale of sorrow. From his youth

        James, though not sickly, yet was delicate,

        And Leonard being always by his side

        Had done so many offices about him,

        That, though he was not of a timid nature,

        Yet still the spirit of a mountain boy

        In him was somewhat check'd, and when his Brother

        Was gone to sea and he was left alone

        The little colour that he had was soon

        Stolen from his cheek, he droop'd, and pin'd and pin'd;

LEONARD

      But these are all the graves of full grown men!

PRIEST

        Aye, Sir, that pass'd away: we took him to us.

        He was the child of all the dale – he liv'd

        Three months with one, and six months with another:

        And wanted neither food, nor clothes, nor love,

        And many, many happy days were his.

        But, whether blithe or sad, 'tis my belief

        His absent Brother still was at his heart.

        And, when he liv'd beneath our roof, we found

        (A practice till this time unknown to him)

        That often, rising from his bed at night,

        He in his sleep would walk about, and sleeping

        He sought his Brother Leonard – You are mov'd!

        Forgive me, Sir: before I spoke to you,

        I judg'd you most unkindly.

LEONARD

                                  But this youth,

        How did he die at last?

PRIEST

                                One sweet May morning,

        It will be twelve years since, when Spring returns,

        He had gone forth among the new-dropp'd lambs,

        With two or three companions whom it chanc'd

        Some further business summon'd to a house

        Which stands at the Dale-head. James, tir'd perhaps,

        Or from some other cause remain'd behind.

        You see yon precipice – it almost looks

        Like some vast building made of many crags,

        And in the midst is one particular rock

        That rises like a column from the vale,

        Whence by our Shepherds it is call'd, the Pillar.

        James, pointing to its summit, over which

        They all had purpos'd to return together,

        Inform'd them that he there would wait for them:

        They parted, and his comrades pass'd that way

        Some two hours after, but they did not find him

        At the appointed place, a circumstance

        Of which they took no heed: but one of them,

        Going by chance, at night, into the house

        Which at this time was James's home, there learn'd

        That nobody had seen him all that day:

        The morning came, and still, he was unheard of:

        The neighbours were alarm'd, and to the Brook

        Some went, and some towards the Lake; ere noon

        They found him at the foot of that same Rock

        Dead, and with mangled limbs. The third day after

        I buried him, poor Lad, and there he lies.

LEONARD

        And that then is his grave! – Before his death

        You said that he saw many happy years?

PRIEST

      Aye, that he did —

LEONARD

      And all went well with him —

PRIEST

      If he had one, the Lad had twenty homes.

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 turn'd on Leonard's luckless fortune,

        He talk'd about him with a chearful love.

LEONARD

      He could not come to an unhallow'd end!

PRIEST

        Nay, God forbid! You recollect I mention'd

        A habit which disquietude and grief

        Had brought upon him, and

3

The great Gavel, so called I imagine, from its resemblance to the Gable end of a house, is one of the highest of the Cumberland mountains. It stands at the head of the several vales of Ennerdale, Wastdale, and Borrowdale.

The Leeza is a River which follows into the Lake of Ennerdale: on issuing from the Lake, it changes its name, and is called the End, Eyne, or Enna. It falls into the sea a little below Egremont.