Three years ...

... rose and pursued ...

... demoniac ...

Than he who now at night-fall treads thy bare domain!

And, from its perilous shelter driven, ...

By Derwent's side my Father's cottage stood,
(The Woman thus her artless story told)
One field, a flock, and what the neighbouring flood
Supplied, to him were more than mines of gold.
Light was my sleep; my days in transport roll'd:
With thoughtless joy I stretch'd along the shore
My father's nets, or watched, when from the fold
High o'er the cliffs I led my fleecy store,
A dizzy depth below! his boat and twinkling oar.

... or from the mountain fold
Saw on the distant lake his twinkling oar
Or watch'd his lazy boat still less'ning more and more.

My father was a good and pious man,
An honest man by honest parents bred,

Can I forget what charms did once adorn
My garden, stored with pease, and mint, and thyme,
And rose and lilly for the sabbath morn?
The sabbath bells, and their delightful chime;
The gambols and wild freaks at shearing time;
My hen's rich nest through long grass scarce espied;
The cowslip-gathering at May's dewy prime;
The swans, that, when I sought the water-side,
From far to meet me came, spreading their snowy pride.

Can I forget our croft and plot of corn;
Our garden, stored ...

The cowslip-gathering in June's dewy prime;

The swans, that with white chests upheaved in pride,
Rushing and racing came to meet me at the waterside.

... yet ...

When ...

My watchful dog, whose starts of furious ire,
When stranger passed, so often I have check'd;

... would ...

... summer ...

The suns of twenty summers danced along,—
Ah! little marked, how fast they rolled away:
Then rose a mansion proud our woods among,
And cottage after cottage owned its sway,
No joy to see a neighbouring house, or stray
Through pastures not his own, the master took;
My Father dared his greedy wish gainsay;
He loved his old hereditary nook,
And ill could I the thought of such sad parting brook.

Then rose a stately hall our woods among,

... how fast they rolled away:
But, through severe mischance, and cruel wrong,
My father's substance fell into decay;
We toiled, and struggled—hoping for a day
When Fortune should put on a kinder look;
But vain were wishes—efforts vain as they:
He from his old hereditary nook
Must part,—the summons came,—our final leave we took.

But, when he had refused the proffered gold,
To cruel injuries he became a prey,
Sore traversed in whate'er he bought and sold:
His troubles grew upon him day by day,
Till all his substance fell into decay.
His little range of water was deniedⁱ;
All but the bed where his old body lay,
All, all was seized, and weeping, side by side,
We sought a home where we uninjured might abide.

And all his substance fell into decay.
They dealt most hardly with him, and he tried
To move their hearts—but it was vain—for they
Seized all he had; and, weeping ...

Can I forget that miserable hour,

It was in truth a lamentable hour

I saw our own dear home, that was ...

... many and many a song

... little birds ...

His father said, that to a distant town
He must repair, to ply the artist's trade.

Two years were pass'd, since to a distant Town
He had repair'd to ply the artist's trade.

Four years each day with daily bread was blest,
By constant toil and constant prayer supplied.

Three lovely infants lay upon my breast;

When sad distress...

... from him the grave did hide . ... for him ...

... which ...

... could ...

But soon, day after day, ...

... to sweep ...

There foul neglect for months and months we bore,
Nor yet the crowded fleet its anchor stirred.

There, long were we neglected, and we bore
Much sorrow ere the fleet its anchor weigh'd;

Green fields before us and our native shore,
By fever, from polluted air incurred,
Ravage was made, for which no knell was heard.
Fondly we wished, and wished away, nor knew,
'Mid that long sickness, and those hopes deferr'd,

But from delay the summer calms were past.

We gazed with terror on the gloomy sleep
Of them that perished in the whirlwind's sweep,

Oh! dreadful price of being to resign
All that is dear in being! better far
In Want's most lonely cave till death to pine,
Unseen, unheard, unwatched by any star;
Or in the streets and walks where proud men are,
Better our dying bodies to obtrude,
Than dog-like, wading at the heels of war,
Protract a curst existence, with the brood
That lap (their very nourishment!) their brother's blood.

It would thy brain unsettle even to hear.

Peaceful as some immeasurable plain
By the first beams of dawning light impress'd,

... has its hour of rest,
That comes not to the human mourner's breast.

I too was calm, though heavily distress'd!

Remote from man, and storms of mortal care,
A heavenly silence did the waves invest;
I looked and looked along the silent air,
Until it seemed to bring a joy to my despair.

Oh me, how quiet sky and ocean were!
My heart was healed within me, I was bless'd.
And looked, and looked ...

My heart was hushed within me, ...

As quiet all within me, ...

Where looks inhuman dwelt on festering heaps!

Yet does that burst of woe congeal my frame,
When the dark streets appeared to heave and gape,
While like a sea the storming army came,
And Fire from Hell reared his gigantic shape,
And Murder, by the ghastly gleam, and Rape
Seized their joint prey, the mother and the child!
But from these crazing thoughts my brain, escape!
—For weeks the balmy air breathed soft and mild,
And on the gliding vessel Heaven and Ocean smiled.

At midnight once the storming Army came,
Yet do I see the miserable sight,
The Bayonet, the Soldier, and the Flame
That followed us and faced us in our flight:
When Rape and Murder by the ghastly light
Seized their joint prey, the Mother and the Child!
But I must leave these thoughts.—From night to night,
From day to day, the air breathed soft and mild;
And on the gliding vessel Heaven and Ocean smiled.

And oft, robb'd of my perfect mind, I thought
At last my feet a resting-place had found:
Here will I weep in peace, (so fancy wrought,)

Here watch, of every human friend disowned,
All day, my ready tomb the ocean-flood—

Here will I live:—of every friend disown'd,
Here will I roam about the ocean flood.—

And end my days upon the ocean flood."—

By grief enfeebled was I turned adrift,
Helpless as sailor cast on desart rock;

Helpless as sailor cast on some bare rock;

Nor dared ...

How dismal ...