Old Simon to the world is left In liveried poverty.
His Master"s dead,--and no one now Dwells in the Hall of Ivor; 30 Men, dogs, and horses, all are dead; He is the sole survivor. [8]
And [9] he is lean and he is sick; His body, dwindled and awry, Rests upon ankles swoln and thick; 35 His legs are thin and dry.
One prop he has, and only one, His wife, an aged woman, Lives with him, near the waterfall, Upon the village Common. [10] 40
Beside their moss-grown hut of clay, Not twenty paces from the door, A sc.r.a.p of land they have, but they Are poorest of the poor.
This sc.r.a.p of land he from the heath 45 Enclosed when he was stronger; But what to them avails the land Which he can till no longer? [11]
Oft, working by her Husband"s side, Ruth does what Simon cannot do; 50 For she, with scanty cause for pride, [12]
Is stouter of the two.
And, though you with your utmost skill From labour could not wean them, "Tis little, very little--all 55 That they can do between them. [13]
Few months of life has he in store As he to you will tell, For still, the more he works, the more Do his weak ankles swell. [14] 60 My gentle Reader, I perceive How patiently you"ve waited, And now I fear [15] that you expect Some tale will be related.
O Reader! had you in your mind 65 Such stores as silent thought can bring,[B]
O gentle Reader! you would find A tale in every thing.
What more I have to say is short, And you must [16] kindly take it: 70 It is no tale; but, should you think, [17]
Perhaps a tale you"ll make it.
One summer-day I chanced to see This old Man doing all he could To unearth the root [18] of an old tree, 75 A stump of rotten wood.
The mattock tottered in his hand; So vain was his endeavour, That at the root of the old tree He might have worked for ever. 80
"You"re overtasked, good Simon Lee, Give me your tool," to him I said; And at the word right gladly he Received my proffered aid.
I struck, and with a single blow 85 The tangled root I severed, At which the poor old Man so long And vainly had endeavoured.
The tears into his eyes were brought, And thanks and praises seemed to run 90 So fast out of his heart, I thought They never would have done.
--I"ve heard of hearts unkind, kind deeds With coldness still returning; Alas! the grat.i.tude of men 95 Hath oftener [19] left me mourning.[C]
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1827.
I"ve heard ... 1798.]
[Variant 2: In editions 1798 to 1815 the following is inserted:
Of years he has upon his back, No doubt, a burthen weighty; He says he is three score and ten, But others say he"s eighty.
A long blue livery-coat has he, That"s fair behind, and fair before; Yet, meet him where you will, you see At once that he is poor.]
[Variant 3:
1827.
... five and twenty ... 1798.]
[Variant 4:
1845.
And, though he has but one eye left, His cheek is like a cherry. 1798.
And still the centre of his cheek Is blooming as a cherry. 1820.]
[Variant 5:
1827.
No man like him the horn could sound, And no man was so full of glee; To say the least, four counties round Had heard of Simon Lee; His master"s dead, and no one now Dwells in the hall of Ivor; Men, dogs, and horses, all are dead; He is the sole survivor. 1798.
Worn out by hunting feats--bereft By time of friends and kindred, see!
Old Simon to the world is left In liveried poverty.
His Master"s dead, ... 1827.
The fourth stanza of the final edition being second in 1827, and the second stanza being third in 1827.]
[Variant 6:
1827.
... race ... 1798.]
[Variant 7:
Of strength, of friends, and kindred, see.
In MS. letter to Allan Cunningham, Nov. 1828.]
[Variant 8:
1832.
His hunting feats have him bereft Of his right eye, as you may see: And then, what limbs those feats have left To poor old Simon Lee!
He has no son, he has no child, His wife, an aged woman, Lives with him, near the waterfall, Upon the village common. 1798.
His hunting feats have him bereft Of his right eye, as you may see, And Simon to the world is left, In liveried poverty.
When he was young he little knew Of husbandry or tillage; And now is forced to work, though weak, --The weakest in the village. 1820.]