Now what says Bonny? He sits on his hill. He sees his life before him. Though he does not know that for finding the key, he is to have £1000, invested already, and to accumulate, until he entirely settles down. In fulness of time he will cast away the unsaleable portion of his rags, and wed square Polly Bottler. Their hearts are as one; they only wait for parental assent, and the band or bann—whichever may be the proper word—shouted thrice by the Rector, defiant of the world to forbid those two. They are not ready yet to be joined together; but they are polishing their fire-irons.
Meanwhile Bonny may be seen to sit on one of those wonderful nicks of the hill, which seem to be scolloped by nature and padded, to tempt her restless mankind to rest. For here the curve of the slope is so snug, that only pleasant airs find entry, with the flowery tales they bring, and the grass is of the greenest, and the peep into the lowland distance of the most refreshing blue. Lulled on a bank here Bonny sits, not quite so fair as the fairy-queen (who perhaps is watching him unseen), but picturesque enough for the age, and provided with a donkey worthy of Titania’s purest love. Jack is gazing with deep interest at an image of himself, cleverly shaped by his master on the green with snowy outline of chalky flints. Here are set forth his long tail, white nose, and ears as long and rich as the emblem of fair Ceres. He sniffs at his nose, and he treads on his toes, and not being able to explain away all things, he falls to and grazes from his own stomach.
But what is Bonny doing here, instead of attending to his rags and bones? Well, he ought to be, but he certainly is not, attending to the Rector’s sheep. To wit, Mr. Hales, growing stiff in the saddle, betakes himself freely to saddles of mutton; and has paid, and is paying, his three daughters’ portions, after the manner of the patriarchs. But leaving the flock to their own devices (for which, an he were satirical, he might quote his master as precedent), Bonny opens his capacious mouth, and the fresh air of the Downs rings richly, with a simple
SOUTHDOWN SONG.
1
“When the sheep are on the hill,
In the early summer day,
They may wander at their will,
While I go myself astray.
Chorus (sustained by sheep and Jack).