Oh! it was a time forlorn When the Fatherless was born-- Give her wings that she may fly, Or she sees her Infant die! 60 Swords that are with slaughter wild Hunt the Mother and the Child. Who will take them from the light? --Yonder is a Man in sight-- Yonder is a House--but where? No, they must not enter there. To the Caves, and to the Brooks, To the Clouds of Heaven she looks; She is speechless, but her eyes Pray in ghostly agonies. 70 Blissful Mary, Mother mild, Maid and Mother undefiled, Save a Mother and her Child! Now Who is he that bounds with joy On Carrock's side, a Shepherd Boy? No thoughts hath he but thoughts that pass Light as the wind along the grass. Can this be He who hither came In secret, like a smothered flame? O'er whom such thankful tears were shed 80 For shelter, and a poor Man's bread? God loves the Child; and God hath will'd That those dear words should be fulfill'd, The Lady's words, when forc'd away, The last she to her Babe did say, "My own, my own, thy Fellow-guest I may not be; but rest thee, rest, For lowly Shepherd's life is best!" Alas! when evil men are strong No life is good, no pleasure long. 90 The Boy must part from Mosedale's Groves, And leave Blencathara's rugged Coves, And quit the Flowers that Summer brings To Glenderamakin's lofty springs; Must vanish, and his careless cheer Be turned to heaviness and fear. --Give Sir Lancelot Threlkeld praise! Hear it, good Man, old in days! Thou Tree of covert and of rest For this young Bird that is distrest, 100 Among thy branches safe he lay, And he was free to sport and play, When Falcons were abroad for prey.