# Poems (Wordsworth, 1815)/Volume 1/The Idle Shepherd Boys

XIII.
THE
IDLE SHEPHERD-BOYS;
OR,
DUNGEON-GHYLL 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; 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 chaunts 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-Ghyll.
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 Right opposite to Dungeon-Ghyll, Seeing that he should lose the prize, "Stop!" to his comrade Walter cries— James 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, She saw him down the torrent borne; And, while with all a mother's love She from the lofty rocks above Sent forth a cry forlorn, The Lamb, still swimming round and round, Made answer to that plaintive sound.
VIII.
When he had learnt what thing it was, That sent this rueful cry; I ween, The Boy recovered heart, and told The sight which he had seen. Both gladly now deferred their task; Nor was there wanting other aid— A Poet, one who loves the brooks Far better than the sages' books, By chance had thither strayed; And there the helpless Lamb he found By those huge rocks encompassed round.
IX.
He drew it gently from the pool, And brought it forth into the light: The Shepherds met him with his Charge, An unexpected sight! Into their arms the Lamb they took, Said they, "He's neither maimed nor scarred." Then up the steep ascent they hied, And placed him at his Mother's side; And gently did the Bard Those idle Shepherd-boys upbraid, And bade them better mind their trade.