SIMON LEE, THE OLD HUNTSMAN...
Old Ruth works out of doors with him,
As he to you will tell,
He says he is three score and ten,
Could leave both man and horse behind;
O reader! had you in your mind
At which his heart rejoices;
His poor old ancles swell.
And he is lean and he is sick,
Full ?ve and twenty years he lived
It is no tale; but should you think,
Men, dogs, and horses, all are dead;
And though you with your utmost skill
He is the sole survivor.
Give me your tool" to him I said;
And still theres something in the world
A long blue livery-coat has he,
About the root of an old tree,99lib•net
A running huntsman merry;
This scrap of land he from the heath
From labour could not wean them,
Of husbandry or tillage;
Upon the village common.
For she, not over stout of limb,
And vainly had endeavourd.
A stump of rotten wood.
I hope youll kindly take it;
Perhaps a tale youll make it.
Not twenty paces from the door,
"Youre overtasked, good Simon Lee,
His cheek is like a cherry.
His masters dead, and no one now
Beside their moss-grown hut of clay,
And at the word right gladly he
Which they can till no longer?
The mattock totterd in his han九-九-藏-书-网d;
Lives with him, near the waterfall,
At once that he is poor.
Alas! the gratitude of men
No man like him the horn could sound.
Thats fair behind, and fair before;
Such stores as silent thought can bring,
And Im afraid that you expect
I struck, and with a single blow
How patiently youve waited,
His wife, an aged woman,
Dwells in the hall of Ivor;
His ancles they are swoln and thick
Ive heard he once was tall.
With coldness still returning.
SIMON LEE, THE OLD HUNTSMAN, WITH AN INCIDENT IN WHICH HE WAS CONCERNED.
Had heard of Simon Lee;
Hhttp://www•99lib•nete dearly loves their voices!
And no man was so full of glee;
The tangled root I severd,
Few months of life has he in store,
Enclosed when he was stronger;
To poor old Simon Lee!
But others say hes eighty.
And now hes forced to work, though weak,
At which the poor old man so long
O gentle reader! you would ?nd
What more I have to say is short,
--Ive heard of hearts unkind, kind deeds
Are poorest of the poor.
His hunting feats have him bereft
Yet, meet him where you will, you see
My gentle reader, I perceive
No doubt, a burthen weighty;
He all the country coul九九藏书网d outrun,
And then, what limbs those feats have left
And, though he has but one eye left,
Has oftner left me mourning.
Of his right eye, as you may see:
A tale in every thing.
And often, ere the race was done,
He reeled and was stone-blind.
So vain was his endeavour
This old man doing all he could
So fast out of his heart, I thought
They never would have done.
Received my profferd aid.
He might have worked for ever.
A scrap of land they have, but they
To say the least, four counties round
His legs are thin and dry.
Of years he has upon his back,
--The weakest in the vill99lib.netage.
The tears into his eyes were brought,
When he was young he little knew
But what avails the land to them,
His little bodys half awry
Some tale will be related.
Is stouter of the two.
And thanks and praises seemed to run
And does what Simon cannot do;
He has no son, he has no child,
Which they can do between them.
In the sweet shire of Cardigan,
That at the root of the old tree
Alas! tis very little, all
An old man dwells, a little man,
For still, the more he works, the more
For when the chiming hounds are out,
One summer-day I chanced to see
Not far from pleasant Ivor-hall,