THE

IDLE SHEPHERD-BOYS,

OR,

DUNGEON-GILL FORCE*.

A PASTORAL.

I.

The valley rings with mirth and joy;

Among the hills the Echoes play

A never never ending song

To welcome in the May.

The Magpie chatters with delight;

* Gill in the dialect of Cumberland and Westmoreland is a short, and, for the most part, a steep narrow valley, with a stream running through it. Force is the word universally employed in these dialects for Waterfall.

The mountain Raven's youngling Brood

Have left the Mother and the Nest;

And they go rambling east and west
In search of their own food;

Or through the glittering Vapors dart
In very wantonness of heart.

II.

Beneath a rock, upon the grass,
Two Boys are sitting in the sun;
It seems they have no work to do,
Or that their work is done.

On pipes of sycamore they play
The fragments of a Christmas Hymn;
Or with that plant which in our dale
We call Stag-horn, or Fox's Tail,
Their rusty Hats they trim:

And thus, as happy as the Day,

Those Shepherds wear the time away.

III.

Along the river's stony marge
The Sand-lark chants a joyous song;

The Thrush is busy in the wood,
And carols loud and strong.

A thousand Lambs are on the rocks,
All newly born! both earth and sky
Keep jubilee; and more than all,
Those Boys with their green Coronal;
They never hear the cry,

That plaintive cry! which up the hill
Comes from the depth of Dungeon-Gill.

IV.

Said Walter, leaping from the ground, "Down to the stump of yon old yew

We'll for our Whistles run a race."

Away the Shepherds flew.

They leapt they ran-and when they came

1

Right opposite to Dungeon-Gill,

Seeing that he should lose the prize,

"

Stop!" to his comrade Walter criesJames stopped with no good will:

Said Walter then, “Your task is here, "Twill keep you working half a year.

V.

"Now cross where I shall cross-come on,

And follow me where I shall lead".

The other took him at his word,

But did not like the deed.

It was a spot, which you may see

If ever you to Langdale go:

Into a chasm a mighty Block

Hath fallen, and made a Bridge of rock :

The gulph is deep below;

And in a bason black and small

Receives a lofty Waterfall.

VI.

With staff in hand across the cleft

The Challenger began his march;

And now, all eyes and feet, hath gained
The middle of the arch.

When list! he hears a piteous moan-
Again!-his heart within him dies-
His pulse is stopped, his breath is lost,
He totters, pale as any ghost,
And, looking down, he spies

A Lamb, that in the pool is pent

Within that black and frightful Rent.

VII.

The Lamb had slipped into the stream,

And safe without a bruise or wound

The Cataract had borne him down

Into the gulph profound.

His Dam had seen him when he fell,