Избранная лирика - Вордсворт Уильям - Страница 17

17

THE LAST OF THE FLOCK

      I                      In distant countries have I been,                      And yet I have not often seen                      A healthy man, a man full grown,                      Weep in the public roads, alone.                      But such a one, on English ground,                      And in the broad highway, I met;                      Along the broad highway he came,                      His cheeks with tears were wet:                      Sturdy he seemed, though he was sad;                      And in his arms a Lamb he had.       II                      He saw me, and he turned aside,                      As if he wished himself to hide:                      And with his coat did then essay                      To wipe those briny tears away.                      I followed him, and said, "My friend,                      What ails you? wherefore weep you so?"                      — "Shame on me, Sir! this lusty Lamb,                      He makes my tears to flow.                      To-day I fetched him from the rock;                      He is the last of all my flock.       III                      "When I was young, a single man,                      And after youthful follies ran,                      Though little given to care and thought,                      Yet, so it was, an ewe I bought;                      And other sheep from her I raised,                      As healthy sheep as you might see;                      And then I married, and was rich                      As I could wish to be;                      Of sheep I numbered a full score,                      And every year increased my store.       IV                      "Year after year my stock it grew;                      And from this one, this single ewe,                      Full fifty comely sheep I raised,                      As fine a flock as ever grazed!                      Upon the Quantock hills they fed;                      They throve, and we at home did thrive:                      — This lusty Lamb of all my store                      Is all that is alive;                      And now I care not if we die,                      And perish all of poverty.       V                      "Six Children, Sir! had I to feed:                      Hard labour in a time of need!                      My pride was tamed, and in our grief                      I of the Parish asked relief.                      They said, I was a wealthy man;                      My sheep upon the uplands fed,                      And it was fit that thence I took                      Whereof to buy us bread.                      'Do this: how can we give to you,'                      They cried, 'what to the poor is due?'       VI                      "I sold a sheep, as they had said,                      And bought my little children bread,                      And they were healthy with their food                      For me-it never did me good.                      A woeful time it was for me,                      To see the end of all my gains,                      The pretty flock which I had reared                      With all my care and pains,                      To see it melt like snow away —                      For me it was a woeful day.       VII                      "Another still! and still another!                      A little lamb, and then its mother!                      It was a vein that never stopped —                      Like blood drops from my heart they dropped.                      'Till thirty were not left alive                      They dwindled, dwindled, one by one                      And I may say, that many a time                      I wished they all were gone —                      Reckless of what might come at last                      Were but the bitter struggle past.       VIII                      "To wicked deeds I was inclined,                      And wicked fancies crossed my mind;                      And every man I chanced to see,                      I thought he knew some ill of me:                      No peace, no comfort could I find,                      No ease, within doors or without;                      And, crazily and wearily                      I went my work about;                      And oft was moved to flee from home,                      And hide my head where wild beasts roam.       IX                      "Sir! 'twas a precious flock to me                      As dear as my own children be;                      For daily with my growing store                      I loved my children more and more.                      Alas! it was an evil time;                      God cursed me in my sore distress;                      I prayed, yet every day I thought                      I loved my children less;                      And every week, and every day,                      My flock it seemed to melt away.       X                      "They dwindled, Sir, sad sight to see!                      From ten to five, from five to three,                      A lamb, a wether, and a ewe; —                      And then at last from three to two;                      And, of my fifty, yesterday                      I had but only one:                      And here it lies upon my arm,                      Alas! and I have none; —                      To-day I fetched it from the rock;                      It is the last of all my flock."