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Fixing his downcast eye, he many an hour
And lifting up his head, he then would gaze
Would he forget those beings, to whose minds,
The world, and man himself, appeared a scene
Till his eye streamed with tears. In this deep vale
If thou be one whose heart the holy forms
Of young imagination have kept pure,
Stranger! henceforth be warned; and know, that pride, Howe'er disguised in its own majesty,
Is littleness; that he, who feels contempt
For any living thing, hath faculties
Which he has never used; that thought with him
Is in its infancy. The man, whose eye
Is ever on himself, doth look on one,
The least of nature's works, one who might move
Instructed that true knowiedge leads to love,
Who, in the silent hour of inward thought,
A Narration in Dramatic Blank Verse.
But that entrance, Mother!
Can no one hear? It is a perilous tale!
My husband's father told it me,.
Poor old Leoni!-Angels rest his soul !
With lusty arm.
You know that huge round beam
Beneath that tree, while yet it was a tree
He found a baby wrapt in mosses, lined
With thistle beards, and such small locks of wool
As hang on brambles. Well, he brought him home,
And reared him at the then Lord Velez' cost.
And so the babe grew up a pretty boy,
A pretty boy, but most unteachable
And never learnt a prayer, nor told a bead,
But knew the names of birds, and mocked their notes,
And whistled, as he were a bird himself :
And all the autumn 'twas his only play
To get the seeds of wild flowers, and to plant them
So he became a very learned youth.
But Oh! poor wretch !—he read, and read, and read,
"Till his brain turned-and ere his twentieth year,
He had unlawful thoughts of many things:
But yet his speech, it was so soft and sweet,
The late Lord Velez ne'er was wearied with him.
Of all the heretical and lawless talk
Which brought this judgment: so the youth was seized
To hunt for food, and be a naked man,
And wander up and down at liberty.