Page:The Excursion, Wordsworth, 1814.djvu/347

321 The Bride adhering to those filial cares

Dwelt with her Mate beneath her Father's roof.

Our very first in eminence of years

This old Man stood, the Patriarch of the Vale!

And, to his unmolested mansion, Death

Had never come, through space of forty years;

Sparing both old and young in that Abode.

Suddenly then they disappeared:—not twice

Had summer scorched the fields,—not twice had fallen,

On those high Peaks, the first autumnal snow,—

Before the greedy visiting was closed

And the long-privileged House left empty—swept

As by a plague: yet no rapacious plague

Had been among them; all was gentle death,

One after one, with intervals of peace.

—A happy consummation! an accord

Sweet, perfect,—to be wished for! save that here

Was something which to mortal sense might sound

Like harshness,—that the old grey-headed Sire,

The oldest, he was taken last,—survived

When the meek Partner of his age, his Son,