Upon the vulgar ordinances[195] of the world; And he, whom this our cottage hath to-day Relinquished, lived[196] dependent for his bread Upon the laws of public charity. 740 The Housewife, tempted by such slender gains As might from that occasion be distilled, Opened, as she before had done for me, Her doors to admit this homeless Pensioner; The portion gave of coarse but wholesome fare 745 Which appetite required--a blind dull nook, Such as she had, the _kennel_ of his rest! This, in itself not ill, would yet have been Ill borne in earlier life; but his was now The still contentedness of seventy years. 750 Calm did he sit under[197] the wide-spread tree Of his old age: and yet less calm and meek, Winningly meek or venerably calm, Than slow and torpid; paying in this wise A penalty, if penalty it were, 755 For spendthrift feats, excesses of his prime. I loved the old Man, for I pitied him! A task it was, I own, to hold discourse With one so slow in gathering up his thoughts, But he was a cheap pleasure to my eyes; 760 Mild, inoffensive, ready in _his_ way, And helpful[198] to his utmost power: and there Our housewife knew full well what she possessed He was her vassal of all labour, tilled Her garden, from the pasture fetched her kine; 765 And, one among the orderly array Of hay-makers, beneath the burning sun Maintained his place; or heedfully pursued His course, on errands bound, to other vales, Leading sometimes an inexperienced child 770 Too young for any profitable task. So moved he like a shadow that performed Substantial service.[CO] Mark me now, and learn For what reward!--The moon her monthly round Hath not completed since our dame, the queen 775 Of this one cottage and this lonely dale, Into my little sanctuary rushed-- Voice to a rueful treble humanised, And features in deplorable dismay. I treat the matter lightly, but, alas! 780 It is most serious: persevering rain[199] Had fallen in torrents; all the mountain tops Were hidden, and black vapours coursed their sides; This had I seen, and saw; but, till she spake, Was wholly ignorant that my ancient Friend-- 785 Who at her bidding, early and alone, Had clomb aloft to delve the moorland[200] turf For winter fuel--to his noontide meal Returned not, and now, haply, on the heights[201] Lay at the mercy of this raging storm. 790 'Inhuman!'--said I, 'was an old Man's life Not worth the trouble of a thought?--alas! This notice comes too late.' With joy I saw Her husband enter--from a distant vale.