But soon as Luke, full ten years old, could stand Against the mountain blasts; and to the heights, Not fearing toil, nor length of weary ways, He with his father daily went, and they Were as companions, why should I relate That objects which the shepherd loved before Were dearer now? that from the boy there came Feelings and emanations--things which were Light to the sun and music to the wind; And that the old man's heart seemed born again. Thus in his father's sight the boy grew up: And now when he had reached his eighteenth year, He was his comfort and his daily hope. While in this sort the simple household lived From day to day, to Michael's ear there came Distressful tidings. Long before the time Of which I speak, the shepherd had been bound In surety for his brother's son, a man Of an industrious life, and ample means; But unforeseen misfortunes suddenly Had prest upon him, and old Michael now Was summoned to discharge the forfeiture; A grievous penalty, but little less Than half his substance. This unlooked-for claim, At the first hearing, for a moment took More hope out of his life than he supposed That any old man ever could have lost. As soon as he had gathered so much strength That he could look his trouble in the face, It seemed that his whole refuge was to sell A portion of his patrimonial fields. Such was his first resolve; he thought again, And his heart failed him. "Isabel," said he, Two evenings after he had heard the news, "I have been toiling more than seventy years, And in the open sunshine of God's love Have we all lived; yet if these fields of ours Should pass into a stranger's hand, I think That I could not lie quiet in my grave. Our lot is a hard lot; the sun himself Has scarcely been more diligent than I; And I have lived to be a fool at last To my own family. An evil man That was, and made an evil choice, if he Were false to us; and if he were not false, There are ten thousand to whom loss like this Had been no sorrow. I forgive him; but 'Twere better to be dumb than to talk thus. When I began, my purpose was to speak Of remedies and of a cheerful hope. Our Luke shall leave us, Isabel; the land Shall not go from us, and it shall be free; He shall possess it, free as is the wind That passes over it. We have, thou know'st, Another kinsman, he will be our friend In this distress. He is a prosperous man, Thriving in trade, and Luke to him shall go, And with his kinsman's help and his own thrift, He quickly will repair this loss, and then May come again to us. If here he stay, What can be done? Where every one is poor, What can be gained?" At this the old man paused, And Isabel sat silent, for her mind Was busy looking back into past times.