The Poem
| stanza | text | variant | footnote | line number |
| I | Between two sister moorland rills There is a spot that seems to lie Sacred to flowerets of the hills, And sacred to the sky. And in this smooth and open dell There is a tempest-stricken tree; A corner-stone by lightning cut, The last stone of a lonely hut; And in this dell you see A thing no storm can e'er destroy, The shadow of a Danish Boy. | [1] | [A] | 5 10 |
| II | In clouds above, the lark is heard, But drops not here to earth for rest; Within this lonesome nook the bird Did never build her nest. No beast, no bird hath here his home; Bees, wafted on the breezy air, Pass high above those fragrant bells To other flowers:—to other dells Their burthens do they bear; The Danish Boy walks here alone: The lovely dell is all his own. | [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] | 15 20 | |
| III | A Spirit of noon-day is he; Yet seems a form of flesh and blood; Nor piping shepherd shall he be, Nor herd-boy of the wood. A regal vest of fur he wears, In colour like a raven's wing; It fears not rain, nor wind, nor dew; But in the storm 'tis fresh and blue As budding pines in spring; His helmet has a vernal grace, Fresh as the bloom upon his face. | [7] [8] [9] | 25 30 | |
| IV | A harp is from his shoulder slung; Resting the harp upon his knee; To words of a forgotten tongue, He suits its melody. Of flocks upon the neighbouring hill He is the darling and the joy; And often, when no cause appears, The mountain-ponies prick their ears, —They hear the Danish Boy, While in the dell he sings alone Beside the tree and corner-stone. | [10] [11] [12] [13] | 35 40 | |
| V | There sits he; in his face you spy No trace of a ferocious air, Nor ever was a cloudless sky So steady or so fair. The lovely Danish Boy is blest And happy in his flowery cove: From bloody deeds his thoughts are far; And yet he warbles songs of war, That seem like songs of love, For calm and gentle is his mien; Like a dead Boy he is serene. [Contents] | [14] | 45 50 55 |
| 1836 | |
| ... a cottage hut; | 1800 |
... a cottage hut;
| 1827 | |
| He sings his blithest and his best; | 1800 |
| She sings, regardless of her rest, | 1820 |
He sings his blithest and his best;
She sings, regardless of her rest,
| 1827 | |
| But in ... | 1800 |
But in ...
| 1820 | |
| ... his ... | 1800 |
... his ...
| 1827 | |
| The bees borne on ... | 1800 |
The bees borne on ...
| 1827 | |
| Nor ever linger there. | 1800 |
Nor ever linger there.
| 1836 | |
| He seems ... | 1800 |
He seems ...
| 1802 | |
| A piping Shepherd he might be, A Herd-boy of the wood. | 1800 |
A piping Shepherd he might be,
A Herd-boy of the wood.
| 1802 | |
| ... nor ... | 1800 |
... nor ...
| 1836 | |
| He rests the harp upon his knee, And there in a forgotten tongue He warbles melody. | 1800 |
He rests the harp upon his knee,
And there in a forgotten tongue
He warbles melody.
| 1827 | |
| Of flocks and herds both far and near | 1800 |
| Of flocks upon the neighbouring hills | 1802 |
Of flocks and herds both far and near
Of flocks upon the neighbouring hills
| 1845 | |
| ... sits ... | 1800 |
... sits ...
| When near this blasted tree you pass, Two sods are plainly to be seen Close at its root, and each with grass Is cover'd fresh and green. Like turf upon a new-made grave These two green sods together lie, Nor heat, nor cold, nor rain, nor wind Can these two sods together bind, Nor sun, nor earth, nor sky, But side by side the two are laid, As if just sever'd by the spade. |
When near this blasted tree you pass,
Two sods are plainly to be seen
Close at its root, and each with grass
Is cover'd fresh and green.
Like turf upon a new-made grave
These two green sods together lie,
Nor heat, nor cold, nor rain, nor wind
Can these two sods together bind,
Nor sun, nor earth, nor sky,
But side by side the two are laid,
As if just sever'd by the spade.
This stanza occurs only in the edition of 1800.
| 1815 | |
| They seem ... | 1800 |
They seem ...
These Stanzas were designed to introduce a Ballad upon the Story of a Danish Prince who had fled from Battle, and, for the sake of the valuables about him, was murdered by the Inhabitant of a Cottage in which he had taken refuge. The House fell under a curse, and the Spirit of the Youth, it was believed, haunted the Valley where the crime had been committed.— W. W. 1827.
[1799 Contents]
[Main Contents]