To either bank, nor could he summon up The courage that was needful to leap back ’Cross the tempestuous torrent; so he stood A prisoner on the island, not without More than one thought of death, and his last hour. Meantime the father had returned alone To his own home, and now at the approach Of evening he went forth to meet his son, Nor could he guess the cause for which the boy Had stayed so long. The shepherd took his way Up his own mountain grounds, where, as he walked Along the steep that overhung the brook, He seemed to hear a voice, which was again Repeated, like the whistling of a kite. At this, not knowing why--as often-times The old man afterwards was heard to say-- Down to the brook he went, and tracked its course Upwards among the o’erhanging rocks; nor Had he gone far ere he espied the boy Right in the middle of the roaring stream. Without distress or fear the shepherd heard The outcry of his son: he stretched his staff Towards him, bade him leap, which word scarce said The boy was safe.… … Of Michael it is said-- No doubt if you in terms direct had asked Whether he loved the mountains, true it is That with blunt repetition of your words He might have stared at you, and said that they Were frightful to behold, but had you then Discoursed with him … Of his own business, and the goings on Of earth and sky, then truly had you seen That in his thoughts there were obscurities, Wonder, and admiration, things that wrought Not less than a religion in his heart. And if it was his fortune to converse With any who could talk of common things In an unusual way, and give to them Unusual aspects, or by questions apt Wake sudden recognitions, that were like Creations in the mind (and were indeed Creations often), then when he discoursed Of mountain sights, this untaught shepherd stood Before the man with whom he so conversed And looked at him as with a poet’s eye. But speaking of the vale in which he dwelt, And those bare rocks, if you had asked if he For other pastures would exchange the same And dwell elsewhere, … … you then had seen At once what spirit of love was in his heart. … I have related that this Shepherd loved The fields and mountains, not alone for this That from his very childhood he had lived Among them, with a body hale and stout, And with a vigorous mind … … But exclude Such reasons, and he had less cause to love His native vale and patrimonial fields Than others have, for Michael had liv’d on Childless, until the time when he began To look towards the shutting in of life. In this MS. book there are also some of the original stanzas of _Ruth_, with a few variations of text.--ED.