No More Learning

But those [27] two Orphans!

_Priest_. Orphans! --Such they were--235
Yet not while Walter lived:--for, though their parents
Lay buried side by side as now they lie,
The old man was a father to the boys,
Two fathers in one father: and if tears,
Shed when he talked of them where they were not, 240
And hauntings from the infirmity of love,
Are aught of what makes up a mother's heart,
This old Man, in the day of his old age,
Was half a mother to them. --If you weep, Sir,
To hear a stranger talking about strangers, 245
Heaven bless you when you are among your kindred!
Ay--you may turn that way--it is a grave
Which will bear looking at.

_Leonard_. These boys--I hope
They loved this good old Man? --250

_Priest_. They did--and truly:
But that was what we almost overlooked,
They were such darlings of each other. Yes,
Though from the cradle they had lived with Walter,
The only kinsman near them, and though he 255
Inclined to both by reason of his age,
With a more fond, familiar, tenderness;
They, notwithstanding, had much love to spare, [28]
And it all went into each other's hearts.
Leonard, the elder by just eighteen months, 260
Was two years taller: 'twas a joy to see,
To hear, to meet them! --From their house the school
Is [29] distant three short miles, and in the time
Of storm and thaw, when every water-course
And unbridged stream, such as you may have noticed 265
Crossing our roads at every hundred steps,
Was swoln into a noisy rivulet
Would Leonard then, when elder boys remained
At home, go staggering through the slippery fords, [30]
Bearing his brother on his back. I have [31] seen him, 270
On windy days, in one of those stray brooks,
Ay, more than once I have [31] seen him, mid-leg deep,
Their two books lying both on a dry stone,
Upon the hither side: and once I said,
As I remember, looking round these rocks 275
And hills on which we all of us were born,
That God who made the great book of the world
Would bless such piety--

_Leonard_. It may be then--

_Priest_.
Never did worthier lads break English bread; 280
The very brightest Sunday Autumn saw [32]
With all its mealy clusters of ripe nuts,
Could never keep those [33] boys away from church,
Or tempt them to an hour of sabbath breach.
Leonard and James! I warrant, every corner 285
Among these rocks, and every hollow place
That venturous foot could reach, to one or both [34]
Was known as well as to the flowers that grow there.
Like roe-bucks they went bounding o'er the hills;
They played like two young ravens on the crags: 290
Then they could write, ay and speak too, as well
As many of their betters--and for Leonard!
The very night before he went away,
In my own house I put into his hand
A bible, and I'd wager house and field 295
That, if he be alive, he has it yet. [35]

_Leonard_. It seems, these Brothers have not lived to be
A comfort to each other--

_Priest_. That they might
Live to such end [36] is what both old and young 300
In this our valley all of us have wished,
And what, for my part, I have often prayed:
But Leonard--

_Leonard_. Then James still is left among you!

_Priest_. 'Tis of the elder brother I am speaking: 305
They had an uncle;--he was at that time
A thriving man, and trafficked on the seas:
And, but for that [37] same uncle, to this hour
Leonard had never handled rope or shroud:
For the boy loved the life which we lead here; 310
And though of unripe years, a stripling only, [38]
His soul was knit to this his native soil.
But, as I said, old Walter was too weak
To strive with such a torrent; when he died,
The estate and house were sold; and all their sheep, 315
A pretty flock, and which, for aught I know,
Had clothed the Ewbanks for a thousand years:--
Well--all was gone, and they were destitute,
And Leonard, chiefly for his Brother's sake,
Resolved to try his fortune on the seas. 320
Twelve years are past [39] since we had tidings from him.
If there were [40] one among us who had heard
That Leonard Ewbank was come home again,
From the Great Gavel, [G] down by Leeza's banks,
And down the Enna, far as Egremont. 325
The day would be a joyous festival; [41]
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.