Page:The Excursion, Wordsworth, 1814.djvu/332

306 He had stepped forth, in time of urgent need,

The generous Surety of a Friend: and now

The widowed Father found that all his rights

In his paternal fields were undermined.

Landless he was and pennyless.—The dews

Of night and morn that wet the mountain sides,

The bright stars twinkling on their dusky tops,

Were conscious of the pain that drove him forth

From his own door, he knew not when—to range

He knew not where; distracted was his brain,

His heart was cloven; and full oft he prayed,

In blind despair, that God would take them all.

—But suddenly, as if in one kind moment

To encourage and reprove, a gleam of light

Broke from the very bosom of that cloud

Which darkened the whole prospect of his days.

For He, who now possessed the joyless right

To force the Bondsman from his house and lands,

In pity, and by admiration urged

Of his unmurmuring and considerate mind

Meekly submissive to the law's decree,

Lightened the penalty with liberal hand.