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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=540049" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland, 1803</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now we are tired of boisterous joy,<br>Have romped enough, my little Boy!<br>Jane hangs her head upon my breast,<br>And you shall bring your stool and rest;<br>This corner is your own.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There! take your seat, and let me see<br>That you can listen quietly:<br>And, as I promised, I will tell<br>That strange adventure which befell<br>A poor blind Highland Boy. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">A 'Highland' Boy!-why call him so?<br>Because, my Darlings, ye must know<br>That, under hills which rise like towers,<br>Far higher hills than these of ours!<br>He from his birth had lived.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He ne'er had seen one earthly sight<br>The sun, the day; the stars, the night;<br>Or tree, or butterfly, or flower,<br>Or fish in stream, or bird in bower,<br>Or woman, man, or child. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And yet he neither drooped nor pined,<br>Nor had a melancholy mind;<br>For God took pity on the Boy,<br>And was his friend; and gave him joy<br>Of which we nothing know.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His Mother, too, no doubt, above<br>Her other children him did love:<br>For, was she here, or was she there,<br>She thought of him with constant care,<br>And more than mother's love. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And proud she was of heart, when, clad<br>In crimson stockings, tartan plaid,<br>And bonnet with a feather gay,<br>To Kirk he on the Sabbath day<br>Went hand in hand with her.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A dog too, had he; not for need,<br>But one to play with and to feed;<br>Which would have led him, if bereft<br>Of company or friends, and left<br>Without a better guide. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And then the bagpipes he could blow-<br>And thus from house to house would go;<br>And all were pleased to hear and see,<br>For none made sweeter melody<br>Than did the poor blind Boy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet he had many a restless dream;<br>Both when he heard the eagles scream,<br>And when he heard the torrents roar,<br>And heard the water beat the shore<br>Near which their cottage stood. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Beside a lake their cottage stood,<br>Not small like ours, a peaceful flood;<br>But one of mighty size, and strange;<br>That, rough or smooth, is full of change,<br>And stirring in its bed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For to this lake, by night and day,<br>The great Sea-water finds its way<br>Through long, long windings of the hills<br>And drinks up all the pretty rills<br>And rivers large and strong: </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then hurries back the road it came-<br>Returns, on errand still the same;<br>This did it when the earth was new;<br>And this for evermore will do<br>As long as earth shall last.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And, with the coming of the tide,<br>Come boats and ships that safely ride<br>Between the woods and lofty rocks;<br>And to the shepherds with their flocks<br>Bring tales of distant lands. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And of those tales, whate'er they were,<br>The blind Boy always had his share;<br>Whether of mighty towns, or vales<br>With warmer suns and softer gales,<br>Or wonders of the Deep.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet more it pleased him, more it stirred,<br>When from the water-side he heard<br>The shouting, and the jolly cheers;<br>The bustle of the mariners<br>In stillness or in storm. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But what do his desires avail?<br>For He must never handle sail;<br>Nor mount the mast, nor row, nor float<br>Ill sailor's ship, or fisher's boat,<br>Upon the rocking waves.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His Mother often thought, and said,<br>What sin would be upon her head<br>If she should suffer this: 'My Son,<br>Whate'er you do, leave this undone;<br>The danger is so great.' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thus lived he by Loch Leven's side<br>Still sounding with the sounding tide,<br>And heard the billows leap and dance,<br>Without a shadow of mischance,<br>Till he was ten years old.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When one day (and now mark me well,<br>Ye soon shall know how this befell)<br>He in a vessel of his own,<br>On the swift flood is hurrying down,<br>Down to the mighty Sea. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">In such a vessel never more<br>May human creature leave the shore!<br>If this or that way he should stir,<br>Woe to the poor blind Mariner!<br>For death will be his doom.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But say what bears him?-Ye have seen<br>The Indian's bow, his arrows keen,<br>Rare beasts, and birds with plumage bright;<br>Gifts which, for wonder or delight,<br>Are brought in ships from far. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Such gifts had those seafaring men<br>Spread round that haven in the glen;<br>Each hut, perchance, might have its own;<br>And to the Boy they all were known-<br>He knew and prized them all.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The rarest was a Turtle-shell<br>Which he, poor Child, had studied well;<br>A shell of ample size, and light<br>As the pearly car of Amphitrite,<br>That sportive dolphins drew. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And, as a Coracle that braves<br>On Vaga's breast the fretful waves,<br>This shell upon the deep would swim,<br>And gaily lift its fearless brim<br>Above the tossing surge.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And this the little blind Boy knew:<br>And he a story strange yet true<br>Had heard, how in a shell like this<br>An English Boy, O thought of bliss!<br>Had stoutly launched from shore; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Launched from the margin of a bay<br>Among the Indian isles, where lay<br>His father's ship, and had sailed far-<br>To join that gallant ship of war,<br>In his delightful shell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Our Highland Boy oft visited<br>The house that held this prize; and, led<br>By choice or chance, did thither come<br>One day when no one was at home,<br>And found the door unbarred. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">While there he sate, alone and blind,<br>That story flashed upon his mind;-<br>A bold thought roused him, and he took<br>The shell from out its secret nook,<br>And bore it on his head.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He launched his vessel,-and in pride<br>Of spirit, from Loch Leven's side,<br>Stepped into it-his thoughts all free<br>As the light breezes that with glee<br>Sang through the adventurer's hair. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">A while he stood upon his feet;<br>He felt the motion-took his seat;<br>Still better pleased as more and more<br>The tide retreated from the shore,<br>And sucked, and sucked him in.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And there he is in face of Heaven.<br>How rapidly the Child is driven!<br>The fourth part of a mile, I ween,<br>He thus had gone, ere he was seen<br>By any human eye. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But when he was first seen, oh me<br>What shrieking and what misery!<br>For many saw; among the rest<br>His Mother, she who loved him best,<br>She saw her poor blind Boy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But for the child, the sightless Boy,<br>It is the triumph of his joy!<br>The bravest traveller in balloon,<br>Mounting as if to reach the moon,<br>Was never half so blessed. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And let him, let him go his way,<br>Alone, and innocent, and gay!<br>For, if good Angels love to wait<br>On the forlorn unfortunate,<br>This Child will take no harm.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But now the passionate lament,<br>Which from the crowd on shore was sent,<br>The cries which broke from old and young<br>In Gaelic, or the English tongue,<br>Are stifled-all is still. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And quickly with a silent crew<br>A boat is ready to pursue;<br>And from the shore their course they take,<br>And swiftly down the running lake<br>They follow the blind Boy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But soon they move with softer pace;<br>So have ye seen the fowler chase<br>On Grasmere's clear unruffled breast<br>A youngling of the wild-duck's nest<br>With deftly-lifted oar; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or as the wily sailors crept<br>To seize (while on the Deep it slept)<br>The hapless creature which did dwell<br>Erewhile within the dancing shell,<br>They steal upon their prey.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">With sound the least that can be made,<br>They follow, more and more afraid,<br>More cautious as they draw more near;<br>But in his darkness he can hear,<br>And guesses their intent. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Lei-gha-Lei-gha'-he then cried out,<br>'Lei-gha-Lei-gha'-with eager shout;<br>Thus did he cry, and thus did pray,<br>And what he meant was, 'Keep away,<br>And leave me to myself!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Alas! and when he felt their hands--<br>You've often heard of magic wands,<br>That with a motion overthrow<br>A palace of the proudest show,<br>Or melt it into air: </div><div style="margin:10px 0">So all his dreams-that inward light<br>With which his soul had shone so bright-<br>All vanished;-'twas a heartfelt cross<br>To him, a heavy, bitter loss,<br>As he had ever known.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But hark! a gratulating voice,<br>With which the very hills rejoice:<br>'Tis from the crowd, who tremblingly<br>Have watched the event, and now can see<br>That he is safe at last. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And then, when he was brought to land,<br>Full sure they were a happy band,<br>Which, gathering round, did on the banks<br>Of that great Water give God thanks,<br>And welcomed the poor Child.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And in the general joy of heart<br>The blind Boy's little dog took part;<br>He leapt about, and oft did kiss<br>His master's hands in sign of bliss,<br>With sound like lamentation. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But most of all, his Mother dear,<br>She who had fainted with her fear,<br>Rejoiced when waking she espies<br>The Child; when she can trust her eyes,<br>And touches the blind Boy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She led him home, and wept amain,<br>When he was in the house again:<br>Tears flowed in torrents from her eyes;<br>She kissed him-how could she chastise?<br>She was too happy far. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thus, after he had fondly braved<br>The perilous Deep, the Boy was saved;<br>And, though his fancies had been wild,<br>Yet he was pleased and reconciled<br>To live in peace on shore.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And in the lonely Highland dell<br>Still do they keep the Turtle-shell<br>And long the story will repeat<br>Of the blind Boy's adventurous feat,<br>And how he was preserved.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Wordsworth">William Wordsworth</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=540049" data-title="Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland, 1803 de William Wordsworth" data-description="Now we are tired of boisterous joy,
Have romped enough, my little Boy!
Jane hangs her head upon my breast,
And you shall bring your stool and rest;
This corner is your own.

There! take your seat, and let me see
That you can listen quietly:
And, a..."></div>
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