I said not this, because he loves Through the long day to swear and tipple; But for the poor dear sake of one To whom a foul deed he had done, A friendless man, a travelling cripple! 10 For this poor crawling helpless wretch Some horseman who was passing by,[342] A penny on the ground had thrown; But the poor cripple was alone And could not stoop--no help was nigh. 15 Inch-thick the dust lay on the ground For it had long been droughty weather; So with his staff the cripple wrought Among the dust till he had brought The half-pennies together. 20 It chanced that Andrew passed that way Just at the time; and there he found The cripple in the mid-day heat Standing alone, and at his feet He saw the penny on the ground. 25 He stooped and took the penny up:[343] And when the cripple nearer drew, Quoth Andrew, “Under half-a-crown, What a man finds is all his own, And so, my friend, good-day to you.” 30 And _hence_ I said, that Andrew’s boys Will all be trained to waste and pillage: And wished the press-gang, or the drum Would with its rattling music come,[344] And sweep him from the village! 35 [341] 1815. With its tantara sound would come, 1800. [342] It chanc’d some Traveller passing by, MS. [343] In the text of 1800, this line is, “He stopped and took the penny up,” but in the list of _errata_, “stooped” is substituted for “stopped.”--ED. [344] 1815. With its tantara sound would come 1800. “THERE IS A SHAPELESS CROWD OF UNHEWN STONES” Numerous fragments of verse, more or less unfinished, occur in the Grasmere Journals, written by Dorothy Wordsworth. One of these--which is broken up into irregular fragments, and very incomplete--is evidently part of the material which was written about the old Cumbrian shepherd Michael. The successive alterations of the text of the poem _Michael_ are in the Grasmere Journal. These fragments have a special topographical interest, from their description of Helvellyn, and its spring, the fountain of the mists, and the stones on the summit. On the outside leather cover of the MS. book there is written, “May to Dec. 1802.” The following lines come first:-- There is a shapeless crowd of unhewn stones[345] That lie together, some in heaps, and some In lines, that seem to keep themselves alive In the last dotage of a dying form. At least so seems it to a man who stands In such a lonely place. These are followed by a few lines, some of which were afterwards used in _The Prelude_ (see vol. iii. p. 269):--