Thence in our rustic dialect was called The CLIPPING TREE, a name which yet it bears. There, while they two were sitting in the shade, With others round them, earnest all and blithe, Would Michael exercise his heart with looks Of fond correction and reproof bestowed By catching at their legs, or with his shouts Scared them, while they lay still beneath the shears. And when, by Heaven's good grace, the boy grew up A healthy lad, and carried in his cheek Two steady roses that were five years old, Then Michael from a winter coppice cut But soon as Luke, full ten years old, could stand That objects which the shepherd loved before And that the old man's heart seemed born again ? Thus in his father's sight the boy grew up; And now when he had reached his eighteenth year, He was his comfort and his daily hope. While in this sort the simple household lived From day to day, to Michael's ear there came Distressful tidings. Long before the time Of which I speak, the shepherd had been bound In surety for his brother's son, a man Of an industrious life, and ample means,— But unforeseen misfortunes suddenly Had pressed upon him; and old Michael now Than half his substance. This unlooked-for claim, At the first hearing, for a moment took More hope out of his life than he supposed As soon as he had gathered so much strength |