And quieted in character—the strife, The pride, the fury uncontrollable, Lost on the aërial heights of the Crusades! ‘The first three lines were thrown off at the moment I first caught sight of the ruin from a small eminence by the wayside; the rest was added many years after.’—_Wordsworth’s Life_. APPENDIX D. ‘_Loch Leven_.’—PAGE 165. THE BLIND HIGHLAND BOY. A TALE TOLD BY THE FIRESIDE, AFTER RETURNING TO THE VALE OF GRASMERE. ‘The story was told me by George Mackreth, for many years parish-clerk of Grasmere. He had been an eye-witness of the occurrence. The vessel in reality was a washing-tub, which the little fellow had met with on the shore of the loch.’ Now we are tired of boisterous joy, Have romped 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. A _Highland_ Boy!—why call him so? Because, my Darlings, ye must know That, under hills which rise like towers, Far higher hills than these of ours! He from his birth had lived. 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. 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. 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. And then the bagpipes he could blow— And thus from house to house would go; And all were pleased 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. 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: