Page:The Excursion, Wordsworth, 1814.djvu/114

88 Had clomb aloft to delve the mountain turf

For winter fuel, to his noontide meal

Came not, and now perchance upon the Heights

Lay at the mercy of this raging storm.

"Inhuman!"—said I, "was an Old Man's life

Not worth the trouble of a thought?—alas!

This notice comes too late." With joy I saw

Her Husband enter—from a distant Vale.

We sallied forth together; found the tools

Which the neglected Veteran had dropped,

But through all quarters looked for him in vain.

We shouted—but no answer! Darkness fell

Without remission of the blast or shower,

And fears for our own safety drove us home.

I, who weep little, did, I will confess,

The moment I was seated here alone,

Honour my little Cell with some few tears

Which anger or resentment could not dry.

All night the storm endured; and, soon as help

Had been collected from the neighbouring Vale,

With morning we renewed our quest: the wind

Was fallen, the rain abated, but the hills

Lay shrouded in impenetrable mist;