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THE

LAST OF THE FLOCK.

In distant countries I have been;

And yet I have not often seen
A healthy Man, a Man full grown,
Weep in the public roads alone.
But such a one, on English ground,
And in the broad high-way, I met;
Along the broad high-way he came,
His cheeks with tears were wet.
Sturdy he seemed, though he was sad;
And in his arms a Lamb he had.

He saw me, and he turned aside,
As if he wished himself to hide :
Then with his coat he made essay
To wipe those briny tears away.
I followed him, and said, "My Friend
"What ails you? wherefore weep you so?"
-" Shame on me, Sir! this lusty Lamb,
He makes my tears to flow.
To-day I fetched him from the rock;
He is the last of all my flock.

When I was young, a single Man,
And after youthful follies ran,
Though little given to care and thought,

Yet, so it was, a Ewe I bought;

1

And other sheep from her I raised,
As healthy sheep as you might see,
And then I married, and was rich

As I could wish to be;

Of sheep I numbered a full score,
And every year increas'd my store.

• Year after year my stock it grew,
And from this one, this single Ewe,
Full fifty comely sheep I raised,
As sweet a flock as ever grazed!
Upon the mountain did they feed,
They throve, and we at home did thrive.
-This lusty Lamb of all my store

Is all that is alive ;

And now I care not if we die,
And perish all of poverty.

Six Children, Sir! had I to feed,
Hard labour in a time of need!
My pride was tamed, and in our grief,
I of the Parish ask'd relief.

They said I was a wealthy man;
My sheep upon the mountain fed,
And it was fit that thence I took
Whereof to buy us bread :"
"Do this; how can we give to you,"
They cried, "what to the poor is due ?"
I sold a sheep, as they had said,
And bought my little children bread,
And they were healthy with their food;

For me it never did me good.

A woeful time it was for me,

To see the end of all my gains,
The pretty flock which I had reared
With all my care and pains,
To see it melt like snow away!
For me it was a woeful day.

Another still! and still another!

A little lamb, and then its mother!
It was a vein that never stopp'd-

Like blood-drops from my heart they dropp'd.

Till thirty were not left alive

They dwindled, dwindled, one by one,

And I may say, that many a time

I wished they all were gone:

They dwindled one by one away;

For me it was a woeful day.

To wicked deeds I was inclined,
And wicked fancies cross'd my mind;
And every man I chanc'd to see,

I thought he knew some ill of me.
No peace no comfort could I find,
No ease, within doors or without,
And crazily, and wearily,
I went my work about.
Oft-times I thought to run away;
For me it was a woeful day.

Sir! 'twas a precious flock to me, As dear as my own Children be; For daily with my growing store I loved my Children more and more. Alas! it was an evil time; God cursed me in my sore distress; I prayed, yet every day I thought I loved my children less; And every week, and every day, My flock, it seemed to melt away..

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