The Poem
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| The valley rings with mirth and joy; Among the hills the echoes play A never never ending song, To welcome in the May. The magpie chatters with delight; The mountain raven's youngling brood Have left the mother and the nest; And they go rambling east and west In search of their own food; Or through the glittering vapours dart In very wantonness of heart. Beneath a rock, upon the grass, Two boys are sitting in the sun; Their work, if any work they have, Is out of mind—or done. On pipes of sycamore they play The fragments of a Christmas hymn; Or with that plant which in our dale We call stag-horn, or fox's tail, Their rusty hats they trim: And thus, as happy as the day, Those Shepherds wear the time away. Along the river's stony marge The sand-lark chants a joyous song; The thrush is busy in the wood, And carols loud and strong. A thousand lambs are on the rocks, All newly born! both earth and sky Keep jubilee, and more than all, Those boys with their green coronal; They never hear the cry, That plaintive cry! which up the hill Comes from the depth of Dungeon-Ghyll. Said Walter, leaping from the ground, "Down to the stump of yon old yew We'll for our whistles run a race." —Away the shepherds flew; They leapt—they ran—and when they came Right opposite to Dungeon-Ghyll, Seeing that he should lose the prize, "Stop!" to his comrade Walter cries— James stopped with no good will: Said Walter then, exulting; "Here You'll find a task for half a year. "Cross, if you dare, where I shall cross— Come on, and tread where I shall tread." The other took him at his word, And followed as he led. It was a spot which you may see If ever you to Langdale go; Into a chasm a mighty block Hath fallen, and made a bridge of rock: The gulf is deep below; And, in a basin black and small, Receives a lofty waterfall. With staff in hand across the cleft The challenger pursued his march; And now, all eyes and feet, hath gained The middle of the arch. When list! he hears a piteous moan— Again!—his heart within him dies— His pulse is stopped, his breath is lost, He totters, pallid as a ghost, And, looking down, espies A lamb, that in the pool is pent Within that black and frightful rent. The lamb had slipped into the stream, And safe without a bruise or wound The cataract had borne him down Into the gulf profound. His dam had seen him when he fell, She saw him down the torrent borne; And, while with all a mother's love She from the lofty rocks above Sent forth a cry forlorn, The lamb, still swimming round and round, Made answer to that plaintive sound. When he had learnt what thing it was, That sent this rueful cry; I ween The Boy recovered heart, and told The sight which he had seen. Both gladly now deferred their task; Nor was there wanting other aid— A Poet, one who loves the brooks Far better than the sages' books, By chance had thither strayed; And there the helpless lamb he found By those huge rocks encompassed round. He drew it from the troubled pool, And brought it forth into the light: The Shepherds met him with his charge, An unexpected sight! Into their arms the lamb they took, Whose life and limbs the flood had spared; Then up the steep ascent they hied, And placed him at his mother's side; And gently did the Bard Those idle Shepherd-boys upbraid, And bade them better mind their trade. [Note] [Contents] | [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] | [B] | 5 10 15 20 25 30 35 40 45 50 55 60 65 70 75 80 85 90 95 |
| 1800 | |
| The valley rings with mirth and joy; And, pleased to welcome in the May, From hill to hill the echoes fling Their liveliest roundelay. | 1836 |
The valley rings with mirth and joy;
And, pleased to welcome in the May,
From hill to hill the echoes fling
Their liveliest roundelay.
The text of 1845 returns to that of 1800.
| 1836 | |
| It seems they have no work to do Or that their work is done. | 1800 |
| Boys that have had no work to do, Or work that now is done. | 1827 |
It seems they have no work to do
Or that their work is done.
Boys that have had no work to do,
Or work that now is done.
| 1805 | |
| I'll run with you a race."—No more— | 1800 |
| We'll for this Whistle run a race." ... | 1802 |
I'll run with you a race."—No more—
We'll for this Whistle run a race." ...
| 1836 | |
| Said Walter then, "Your task is here, 'Twill keep you working half a year. | 1800 |
| 'Twill baffle you for half a year. | 1827 |
Said Walter then, "Your task is here,
'Twill keep you working half a year.
'Twill baffle you for half a year.
| 1836 | |
| Till you have cross'd where I shall cross, Say that you'll neither sleep nor eat." | 1800 |
| "Now cross where I shall cross,—come on And follow me where I shall lead—" | 1802 |
| "Cross, if you dare, where I shall cross— Come on, and in my footsteps tread!" | 1827 |
Till you have cross'd where I shall cross,
Say that you'll neither sleep nor eat."
"Now cross where I shall cross,—come on
And follow me where I shall lead—"
"Cross, if you dare, where I shall cross—
Come on, and in my footsteps tread!"
| 1827 | |
| James proudly took him at his word, But did not like the feat. | 1800 |
| ... the deed. | 1802 |
| The other took him at his word, | 1805 |
James proudly took him at his word,
But did not like the feat.
... the deed.
The other took him at his word,
| 1827 | |
| ... began ... | 1800 |
... began ...
| 1827 | |
| ... pale as any ghost, | 1800 |
... pale as any ghost,
| 1827 | |
| ... he spies | 1800 |
... he spies
| 1836 | |
| He drew it gently from the pool, | 1800 |
He drew it gently from the pool,
| 1836 | |
| Said they, "He's neither maim'd nor scarr'd"— | 1800 |
Said they, "He's neither maim'd nor scarr'd"—
Ghyll
, in the dialect of Cumberland and Westmoreland is a short and for the most part a steep narrow valley, with a stream running through it.
Force
is the word universally employed in these dialects for Waterfall.—W. W. 1800.
"Ghyll" was spelt "Gill" in the editions of 1800 to 1805.—Ed.
Compare the Ode, Intimations of Immortality, iv. l. 3 (vol. viii.)—Ed.
Note:
The "bridge of rock" across Dungeon-Ghyll "chasm," and the "lofty waterfall," with all its accessories of place as described in the poem, remain as they were in 1800.—Ed.
[Contents 1800]
[Main Contents]