Poems In Two Volumes, vol 2 | Page 7

boisterous joy,
We've romp'd 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. 10
A Highland Boy!--why call him so?
Because, my Darlings, ye must
know,
In land where many a mountain towers,
Far higher hills than

these of ours!
He from his birth had liv'd.
He ne'er had seen one earthly sight;
The sun, the day; the stars, the
night;
Or tree, or butterfly, or flower,
Or fish in stream, or bird in
bower,
Or woman, man, or child. 20
And yet he neither drooped nor pined,
Nor had a melancholy mind;

For God took pity on the Boy,
And was his friend; and gave him joy
Of which we nothing know.
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 shore
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 Ships, 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 ship 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 shore:
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 ship 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 shore
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