But now the passionate lament,
Which from the crowd on shore was sent,
The cries which broke from old and young
In Gaelic, or the English tongue,
Are stifled—all is still.
And quickly with a silent crew,
A boat is ready to pursue;
And from the shore their course they take,
And swiftly down the running lake
They follow the blind Boy.
But soon they move with softer pace;
So have ye seen the fowler chase
On Grasmere’s clear unruffled breast
A youngling of the wild-duck’s nest
With deftly-lifted oar;
Or as the wily sailors crept
To seize (while on the Deep it slept)
The hapless creature which did dwell
Erewhile within the dancing shell,
They steal upon their prey.
With sound the least that can be made,
They follow, more and more afraid,
More cautious as they draw more near;
But in his darkness he can hear,
And guesses their intent.
‘Lei-gha—Lei-gha’—he then cried out,
‘Lei-gha—Lei-gha’—with eager shout;
Thus did he cry, and thus did pray,
And what he meant was, ‘Keep away,
And leave me to myself!’
Alas! and when he felt their hands—
You’ve often heard of magic wands,
That with a motion overthrow
A palace of the proudest show,
Or melt it into air:
So all his dreams—that inward light
With which his soul had shone so bright—
All vanished;—’twas a heart-felt cross
To him, a heavy, bitter loss,
As he had ever known.
But hark! a gratulating voice,
With which the very hills rejoice:
’Tis from the crowd, who tremblingly
Have watched the event, and now can see
That he is safe at last.
And then, when he was brought to land,
Full sure they were a happy band,
Which, gathering round, did on the banks
Of that great Water give God thanks,
And welcomed the poor Child.