Have I, reclining back upon my heels, Behind me did they stretch in solemn train, XVI. THE BLIND HIGHLAND BOY. (A Tale told by the Fire-side.) Now we are tired of boisterous joy, There! take your seat, and let me see That you can listen quietly; And, as I promised, I will tell That strange adventure which befel A Highland Boy!-why call him so? He from his birth had liv'd. He ne'er had seen one earthly sight; Or fish in stream, or bird in bower, And yet he neither drooped nor pined, For God took pity on the Boy, And was his friend; and gave him joy His Mother, too, no doubt, above For, was she here, or was she there, She thought of him with constant care, And proud she was of heart, when clad To Kirk he on the sabbath day VOL. I. Went hand in hand with her. E A Dog, too, had he; not for need, And then the bagpipes he could blow; And thus from house to house would go, And all were pleased to hear and see; For none made sweeter melody Than did the poor blind Boy. Yet he had many a restless dream; And when he heard the torrents roar, And heard the water beat the shore Near which their Cottage stood. Beside a lake their Cottage stood, But one of mighty size, and strange; Fór to this Lake, by night and day, The great Sea-water finds its way Through long, long windings of the hills; And drinks up all the pretty rills And rivers large and strong: Then hurries back the road it came— As long as earth shall last. And, with the coming of the Tide, And of those tales, whate'er they were, |