_Priest_. Never did worthier lads break English bread; 280 The very brightest Sunday Autumn saw [32] With all its mealy clusters of ripe nuts, Could never keep those [33] boys away from church, Or tempt them to an hour of sabbath breach. Leonard and James! I warrant, every corner 285 Among these rocks, and every hollow place That venturous foot could reach, to one or both [34] Was known as well as to the flowers that grow there. Like roe-bucks they went bounding o'er the hills; They played like two young ravens on the crags: 290 Then they could write, ay and speak too, as well As many of their betters--and for Leonard! The very night before he went away, In my own house I put into his hand A bible, and I'd wager house and field 295 That, if he be alive, he has it yet. [35] _Leonard_. It seems, these Brothers have not lived to be A comfort to each other-- _Priest_. That they might Live to such end [36] is what both old and young 300 In this our valley all of us have wished, And what, for my part, I have often prayed: But Leonard-- _Leonard_. Then James still is left among you! _Priest_. 'Tis of the elder brother I am speaking: 305 They had an uncle;--he was at that time A thriving man, and trafficked on the seas: And, but for that [37] same uncle, to this hour Leonard had never handled rope or shroud: For the boy loved the life which we lead here; 310 And though of unripe years, a stripling only, [38] His soul was knit to this his native soil. But, as I said, old Walter was too weak To strive with such a torrent; when he died, The estate and house were sold; and all their sheep, 315 A pretty flock, and which, for aught I know, Had clothed the Ewbanks for a thousand years:-- Well--all was gone, and they were destitute, And Leonard, chiefly for his Brother's sake, Resolved to try his fortune on the seas. 320 Twelve years are past [39] since we had tidings from him. If there were [40] one among us who had heard That Leonard Ewbank was come home again, From the Great Gavel, [G] down by Leeza's banks, And down the Enna, far as Egremont. 325 The day would be a joyous festival; [41] And those two bells of ours, which there you see-- Hanging in the open air--but, O good Sir! This is sad talk--they'll never sound for him-- Living or dead.--When last we heard of him, 330 He was in slavery among the Moors Upon the Barbary coast.--'Twas not a little That would bring down his spirit; and no doubt, Before it ended in his death, the Youth [42] Was sadly crossed.--Poor Leonard! when we parted, 335 He took me by the hand, and said to me, If e'er he should grow rich, he would return, To live in peace upon his father's land,