For 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
Returns on errand still the same;
This did it when the earth was new;
And this for evermore will do,

As long as earth shall last.

And, with the coming of the Tide,
Come Boats and Ships, that sweetly ride,
Between the woods and lofty rocks;
And to the Shepherds with their flocks
Bring tales of distant lands.

And of those tales, whate'er they were,
The blind boy always had his share;
Whether of mighty Towns, or Vales
With warmer suns and softer gales,
Or wonders of the Deep.

Yet more it pleased him, more it stirr'd,
When, from the water-side, he heard
The shouting and the jolly cheers,
The bustle of the mariners,

In stillness or in storm.

Nor mount the mast, nor row, nor float

In Sailor's ship or Fisher's boat

Upon the rocking waves.

His Mother often thought, and said,
What sin would be upon her head
If she should suffer this: "My Son,
Whate'er you do, leave this undone ;
The danger is so great."

Thus lived he by Loch Levin's side Still sounding with the sounding tide, And heard the billows leap and dance, Without a shadow of mischance,

Till he was ten years old.

When, one day (and now mark me well,

Ye soon shall know how this befel)
He's in a vessel of his own,

On the swift water hurrying down
Towards the mighty Sea.

In such a vessel, never more

May human creature leave the shore!—
If this or that way he should stir,
Woe to the poor blind Mariner !
For death will be his doom.

But say what bears him? - Ye have seen
The Indian's Bow, his arrows keen,
Rare beasts, and birds with plumage bright
Gifts which, for wonder or delight,

Are brought in ships from far.

Such gifts had those sea-faring men Spread round that Haven in the glen; Each hut, perchance, might have its own, And to the Boy they all were known;

He knew and prized them all.

The rarest was a Turtle Shell

Which he, poor Child, had studied well;
A Shell of ample size, and light
As the pearly Car of Amphitrite,

That sportive Dolphins drew.

And as a Coracle that braves

On Vaga's breast the fretful waves, This Shell upon the deep would swim, And gaily lift its fearless brim

Above the tossing surge.

And this the little blind Boy knew:
And he a story strange, yet true,
Had heard, how in a Shell like this
An English Boy, O thought of bliss!

Had stoutly launch'd from shore;

Launch'd from the margin of a bay
Among the Indian Isles, where lay
His Father's ship, and had sailed far,
To join that gallant ship of war,
In his delightful Shell.

Our Highland Boy oft visited

The house which held this prize; and, led
By choice or chance, did thither come,
One day, when no one was at home,
And found the door unbarred.

While there he sate, alone and blind,
That Story flashed upon his mind,-
A bold thought rouzed him, and he took
The Shell from out its secret nook,

And bore it in his arms.

And with the happy burthen hied,
And pushed it from Loch Levin's side, -
Stepped into it; and, without dread,

Following the fancies in his head,

He paddled up and down.

And dallied thus, till from the shore
The tide retreating more and more

Had sucked, and sucked him in.