"Or ere[488] that glowing pile Of mountain turf required the builder's hand Its wasted splendour to repair, the door Opened, and she re-entered with glad looks, Her Helpmate following. Hospitable fare, 775 Frank conversation, made the evening's treat: Need a bewildered traveller wish for more? But more was given; I studied as we sate By the bright fire, the good Man's form, and face Not less than beautiful;[489] an open brow 780 Of undisturbed humanity; a cheek Suffused with something of a feminine hue;[GW] Eyes beaming courtesy and mild regard; But, in the quicker turns of the discourse, Expression slowly varying, that evinced 785 A tardy apprehension. From a fount Lost, thought I, in the obscurities of time, But honoured once, those[490] features and that mien May have descended, though I see them here. In such a man, so gentle and subdued, 790 Withal so graceful in his gentleness, A race illustrious for heroic deeds, Humbled, but not degraded, may expire. This pleasing fancy (cherished and upheld By sundry recollections of such fall 795 From high to low, ascent from low to high, As books record, and even the careless mind Cannot but notice among men and things) Went with me to the place of my repose.[491] "Roused by the crowing cock at dawn of day, 800 I yet had risen too late to interchange A morning salutation with my Host, Gone forth already to the far-off seat Of his day's work. 'Three dark mid-winter months 'Pass,' said the Matron, 'and I never see, 805 'Save when the sabbath brings its kind release, 'My helpmate's face by light of day. He quits 'His door in darkness, nor till dusk returns. 'And, through Heaven's[492] blessing, thus we gain the bread 'For which we pray; and for the wants provide 810 'Of sickness, accident, and helpless age. 'Companions have I many; many friends, 'Dependants, comforters--my wheel, my fire, 'All day the house-clock ticking in mine ear, 'The cackling hen, the tender chicken brood, 815 'And the wild birds that gather round my porch. 'This honest sheep-dog's countenance I read; 'With him can talk; nor blush to[493] waste a word 'On creatures less intelligent and shrewd. 'And if the blustering wind that drives the clouds 820 'Care not for me, he lingers round my door, 'And makes me pastime when our tempers suit;-- 'But, above all, my thoughts are my support, 'My comfort:--would that they were oftener fixed 'On what, for guidance in the way that leads 825 'To heaven, I know, by my Redeemer taught.' The Matron ended[494]--nor could I forbear