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.