In their discourse again the Brothers dwelt On early subjects—what they once had felt, Once thought, of things mysterious:—themes that all With some degree of reverence recall. George then reverted to the days of old, When his heart fainted, and his hope was cold; When by the power of fancy he was sway’d, And every impulse of the mind obey’d. “Then, my dear Richard,” said the ‘Squire, “my case Was call’d consumptive—I must seek a place 10 And soil salubrious, thither must repair, And live on asses’ milk and milder air. “My uncle bought a farm, and on the land The fine old mansion yet was left to stand, Not in this state, but old and much decay’d; Of this a part was habitable made; The rest—who doubts?—was by the spirits seized, Ghosts of all kinds, who used it as they pleased. “The worthy farmer tenant yet remain’d, Of good report—he had a fortune gain’d; 20 And his three daughters at their school acquired The air and manner that their swains admired; The mother-gossip and these daughters three Talk’d of genteel and social company, And, while the days were fine, and walks were clean, A fresh assemblage day by day were seen. “There were the curate’s gentle maids, and some From all the neighbouring villages would come; There, as I stole the yew-tree shades among, I saw the parties walking, old and young, 30 Where I was nothing—if perceived, they said, ‘The man is harmless, be not you afraid; A poor young creature, who, they say, is cross’d In love, and has in part his senses lost— His health for certain, and he comes to spend His time with us; we hope our air will mend A frame so weaken’d, for the learned tribe A change of air for stubborn ills prescribe; And doing nothing often has prevail’d When ten physicians have prescribed and fail’d; 40 Not that for air or change there’s much to say, But nature then has time to take her way; And so we hope our village will restore This man to health that he possess’d before. He loves the garden avenues, the gloom } Of the old chambers, of the tap’stried room; } And we no notice take, we let him go and come.’ } “So spake a gay young damsel; but she knew Not all the truth—in part her tale was true. Much it amused me in the place to be 50 This harmless cypher, seeming not to see, Yet seeing all—unnoticed to appear, Yet noting all; and not disposed to hear, But to go forth—break in on no one’s plan, And hear them speak of the forsaken man. “In scenes like these, a mansion so decay’d, With blighted trees in hoary moss array’d, And ivy’d walls around, for many an hour I walk’d alone, and felt their witching power; So others felt;—the young of either sex 60 Would in these walks their timid minds perplex By meeting terrors, and the old appear’d, Their fears upbraiding, like the young who fear’d.