Page:Poems by William Wordsworth (1815) Volume 1.djvu/168

108 From the great Gavel, down by Leeza's Banks,

And down the Enna, far as Egremont,

The day would be a very festival;

And those two bells of ours, which there you see

Hanging in the open air—but, O good Sir!

This is sad talk—they'll never sound for him

Living or dead.—When last we heard of him

He was in slavery among the Moors

Upon the Barbary Coast.—'Twas not a little

That would bring down his spirit; and, no doubt,

Before it ended in his death, the Youth

Was sadly crossed—Poor Leonard! when we parted,

He took me by the hand and said to me,

If ever the day came when he was rich,

He would return, and on his Father's Land

He would grow old among us.