Ay, Sir, that pass'd away: we took him to us; He was the child of all the dale--he lived Three months with one, and six months with another; And wanted neither food, nor clothes, nor love; And many, many happy days were his. But, whether blithe or sad, 'tis my belief His absent brother still was at his heart. And, when he dwelt beneath our roof, we found (A practice till this time unknown to him) That often, rising from his bed at night, He in his sleep would walk about, and sleeping He sought his brother Leonard.--You are moved; Forgive me, Sir: before I spoke to you, I judged you most unkindly. LEONARD. But this youth How did he die at last? PRIEST. One sweet May morning (It will be twelve years since when Spring returns) He had gone forth among the new-dropp'd lambs, With two or three companions, whom their course Of occupation led from height to height Under a cloudless sun, till he, at length, Through weariness, or, haply, to indulge The humour of the moment, lagg'd behind. You see yon precipice;--it wears the shape Of a vast building made of many crags; And in the midst is one particular rock That rises like a column from the vale, Whence by our shepherds it is called The Pillar. Upon its aëry summit crown'd with heath, The loiterer, not unnoticed by his comrades, Lay stretch'd at ease; but, passing by the place On their return, they found that he was gone. No ill was fear'd; but one of them by chance Entering, when evening was far spent, the house Which at that time was James's home, there learned That nobody had seen him all that day; The morning came, and still he was unheard of; The neighbours were alarm'd, and to the brook Some hasten'd, some towards the lake; ere noon They found him at the foot of that same rock-- Dead, and with mangled limbs. The third day after I buried him, poor youth, and there he lies! LEONARD. And that then is his grave!--Before his death You say that he saw many happy years? PRIEST. Ay, that he did-- LEONARD. And all went well with him?-- PRIEST. If he had one, the youth had twenty homes. LEONARD. And you believe, then, that his mind was easy? PRIEST. Yes, long before he died, he found that time Is a true friend to sorrow; and unless His thoughts were turn'd on Leonard's luckless fortune, He talk'd about him with a cheerful love. LEONARD. He could not come to an unhallow'd end! PRIEST.