Part 2 — CLX

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 seem'd, though he was sad; And in his arms a lamb he had.

He saw me, and he turn'd aside, As if he wish'd himself to hide: And with his coat did then essay To wipe those briny tears away. I follow'd 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 fetch'd him from the rock; He is the last of all my flock.

'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 number'd a full score, And every year increas'd my store.

'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.

'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 ask'd 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?'

'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 woful time it was for me, To see the end of all my gains, The pretty flock which I had rear'd With all my care and pains, To see it melt like snow away— For me it was a woful day.

Another still! and still another! A little lamb, and then its mother! It was a vein that never stopp'd— Like blood-drops from my heart they dropp'd, Till thirty were not left alive; They dwindled, dwindled, one by one; And I may say that many a time I wish'd they all were gone; Reckless of what might come at last, Were but the bitter struggle past.

To wicked deeds I was inclined, And wicked fancies cross'd 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.

'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 pray'd, yet every day I thought I loved my children less; And every week, and every day, My flock it seem'd to melt away; 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 fetch'd it from the rock— It is the last of all my flock.'