'Twas one well-known to him in former days, A shepherd lad,--who, ere his sixteenth year, Had left that calling, tempted to entrust His expectations to the fickle winds And perilous waters--with the mariners A fellow-mariner--and so had fared Through twenty seasons; but he had been rear'd Among the mountains, and he in his heart Was half a shepherd on the stormy seas. Oft in the piping shrouds had Leonard heard The tones of waterfalls and inland sounds Of caves and trees:--and, when the regular wind Between the tropics fill'd the steady sail, And blew with the same breath through days and weeks, Lengthening invisibly its weary line Along the cloudless main, he, in those hours Of tiresome indolence, would often hang Over the vessel's side, and gaze and gaze; And, while the broad green wave and sparkling foam Flash'd round him images and hues that wrought In union with the employment of his heart, He, thus by feverish passion overcome, Even with the organs of his bodily eye, Below him, in the bosom of the deep, Saw mountains--saw the forms of sheep that grazed On verdant hills--with dwellings among trees, And shepherds clad in the same country gray Which he himself had worn. And now at last From perils manifold, with some small wealth Acquired by traffic 'mid the Indian Isles, To his paternal home he is return'd, With a determined purpose to resume The life he had lived there; both for the sake Of many darling pleasures, and the love Which to an only brother he has borne In all his hardships, since that happy time When, whether it blew foul or fair, they two Were brother shepherds on their native hills. --They were the last of all their race; and now, When Leonard had approach'd his home, his heart Fail'd in him; and, not venturing to inquire Tidings of one whom he so dearly loved, Towards the churchyard he had turn'd aside; That as he knew in what particular spot His family were laid, he thence might learn If still his brother lived, or to the file Another grave was added.--He had found Another grave, near which a full half-hour He had remain'd; but, as he gazed, there grew Such a confusion in his memory, That he began to doubt; and he had hopes That he had seen this heap of turf before-- That it was not another grave, but one He had forgotten. He had lost his path, As up the vale, that afternoon, he walk'd Through fields which once had been well known to him: And O what joy the recollection now Sent to his heart! He lifted up his eyes, And, looking round, imagined that he saw Strange alteration wrought on every side Among the woods and fields, and that the rocks And everlasting hills themselves were changed.