thee some little partOf our two histories; ‘twill do thee good
When thou art from me, even if I should speak
Of things thou caust not know of. — After thou
First cam’st into the world, as it befalls
To newborn infants, thou didst sleep away
Two days, and blessings from thy Father’s tongue
Then fell upon thee. Day by day pass’d on,
And still I lov’d thee with encreasing love.”
Never to living ear came sweeter sounds
Than when I heard thee by our own fireside
First uttering without words a natural tune,
When thou, a feeding babe, didst in thy joy
Sing at thy Mother’s breast. Month follow’d month,
And in the open fields my life was pass’d
And in the mountains, else I think that thou
Hadst been brought up upon thy father’s knees.
— But we were playmates, Luke; among these hills,
As well thou know’st, in us the old and young
Have play’d together, nor with me didst thou
Lack any pleasure which a boy can know.
Luke had a manly heart; but at these words
He sobb’d aloud; the Old Man grasp’d his hand,
And said, “Nay do not take it so — I see
That these are things of which I need not speak.
— Even to the utmost I have been to thee
A kind and a good Father: and herein
I but repay a gift which I myself
Receiv’d at others’ hands, for, though now old
Beyond the common life of man, I still
Remember them who lov’d me in my youth.”
Both of them sleep together: here they liv’d
As all their Forefathers had done, and when
At length their time was come, they were not loth
To give their bodies to the family mold.
I wish’d that thou should’st live the life they liv’d.
But ‘tis a long time to look back, my Son,
And see so little gain from sixty years.
These fields were burthen’d when they came to me;
’Till I was forty years of age, not more
Than half of my inheritance was mine.
”I toil’d and toil’d; God bless’d me in my work,
And ‘till these three weeks past the land was free.
— It looks as if it never could endure
Another Master. Heaven forgive me, Luke,
If I judge ill for thee, but it seems good
That thou should’st go.” At this the Old Man paus’d,
Then, pointing to the Stones near which they stood,
Thus, after a short silence, he resum’d:
”This was a work for us, and now, my Son,
It is a work for me. But, lay one Stone —
Here, lay it for me, Luke, with thine own hands.
I for the purpose brought thee to this place.”
Nay, Boy, be of good hope: — we both may live
To see a better day. At eighty-four
I still am strong and stout; — do thou thy part,
I will do mine. — I will begin again
With many tasks that were resign’d to thee;
Up to the heights, and in among the storms,
Will I without thee go again, and do
All works which I was wont to do alone,
Before I knew thy face. — Heaven bless thee, Boy!
Thy heart these two weeks has been beating fast
With many hopes — it should be so — yes — yes —
I knew that thou could’st never have a wish
To leave me, Luke, thou hast been bound to me
Only by links of love, when thou art gone
What will be left to us! — But, I forget
My purposes. Lay now the cornerstone,
As I requested, and hereafter, Luke,
When thou art gone away, should evil men
Be thy companions, let this Sheepfold be
Thy anchor and thy shield; amid all fear
And all temptation, let it be to thee
An emblem of the life thy Fathers liv’d,
Who, being innocent, did for that cause
Bestir them in good deeds. Now, fare thee well —
When thou return’st, thou in this place wilt see
A work which is not here, a covenant
’Twill be between us — but whatever fate
Befall thee, I shall love thee to the last,
And bear thy memory with me to the grave.
The Shepherd ended here; and Luke stoop’d down,
And as his Father had requested, laid
The first stone of the Sheepfold; at the sight
The Old Man’s grief broke from him, to his heart
He press’d his Son, he kissed him and wept;
And to the House together they return’d.
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