He sits, and with a vacant eye;

A sight to make a stranger sigh!
Deaf, drooping, that is now his doom:
His world is in this single room :
Is this a place for mirthful cheer?
Can merry-making enter here?

The joyous Woman is the Mate
Of him in that forlorn estate!
He breathes a subterraneous damp;
But bright as Vesper shines her lamp :
He is as mute as Jedborough Tower;
She jocund as it was of yore,

With all its bravery on; in times
When all alive with merry chimes,
Upon a sun-bright morn of May,
It roused the Vale to holiday.

I praise thee, Matron! and thy due Is praise, heroic praise, and true! With admiration I behold

Thy gladness unsubdued and bold:
Thy looks, thy gestures, all present
The picture of a life well spent :
This do I see; and something more;
A strength unthought of heretofore!
Delighted am I for thy sake;

And yet a higher joy partake:

gay;

Our Human-nature throws away
Its second twilight, and looks
A land of promise and of pride
Unfolding, wide as life is wide.

Ah! see her helpless Charge! enclosed
Within himself as seems, composed;
To fear of loss, and hope of gain,
The strife of happiness and pain,
Utterly dead! yet in the guise
Of little infants, when their eyes
Begin to follow to and fro

The persons that before them go,
He tracks her motions, quick or slow.
Her buoyant spirit can prevail

Where common cheerfulness would fail ;
She strikes upon him with the heat
Of July suns; he feels it sweet;
An animal delight though dim!
'Tis all that now remains for him!

The more I looked, I wondered more— And, while I scanned them o'er and o'er, Some inward trouble suddenly

Broke from the Matron's strong black eyeA remnant of uneasy light,

A flash of something over-bright!

Nor long this mystery did detain

My thoughts;-she told in pensive strain

That she had borne a heavy yoke, Been stricken by a twofold stroke; Ill health of body; and had pined Beneath worse ailments of the mind.

So be it!—but let praise ascend To Him who is our lord and friend! Who from disease and suffering

Hath called for thee a second spring;
Repaid thee for that sore distress
By no untimely joyousness;

Which makes of thine a blissful state;
And cheers thy melancholy Mate!

XIV.

FLY, some kind Harbinger, to Grasmere-dale!
Say that we come, and come by this day's light;
Fly upon swiftest wing round field and height,
But chiefly let one Cottage hear the tale;
There let a mystery of joy prevail,
The kitten frolic, like a gamesome sprite,
And Rover whine, as at a second sight
Of near-approaching good that shall not fail:
And from that Infant's face let joy appear;
Yea, let our Mary's one companion child—
That hath her six weeks' solitude beguiled
With intimations manifold and dear,

While we have wandered over wood and wild

Smile on his Mother now with bolder cheer.

XV.

THE BLIND HIGHLAND BOY.

A TALE TOLD BY THE FIRE-SIDE, AFTER RETURNING TO THE VALE OF GRASMERE.

Now we are tired of boisterous joy,
Have romped enough, my little Boy!
Jane hangs her head upon my breast,
And you shall bring your stool and rest;
This corner is your own.

There! take your seat, and let me see

That you can listen quietly:

And, as I promised, I will tell

That strange adventure which befel
A poor blind Highland Boy.

A Highland Boy!-why call him so?
Because, my Darlings, ye must know
That, under hills which rise like towers
Far higher hills than these of ours!

He from his birth had lived.