And then the bagpipes he could blow—­
  And thus from house to house would go;
  And all were pleased to hear and see,
  For none made sweeter melody
    Than did the poor blind Boy. 45

  Yet he had many a restless dream;
  Both when he heard the eagles scream,
  And when he heard the torrents roar,
  And heard the water beat the shore
    Near which their cottage stood. 50

  Beside a lake their cottage stood,
  Not small like ours, a peaceful flood;
  But one of mighty size, and strange;
  That, rough or smooth, is full of change,
    And stirring in its bed. 55

  For to this lake, by night and day,
  The great Sea-water finds its way
  Through long, long windings of the hills
  And drinks up all the pretty [B] rills
    And rivers large and strong:  [C] 60

  Then hurries back the road it came—­
  Returns, on errand still the same;
  This did it when the earth was new;
  And this for evermore will do,
    As long as earth shall last. 65

  And, with the coming of the tide,
  Come boats and ships that safely [6] ride
  Between the woods and lofty rocks;
  And to the shepherds with their flocks
  Bring tales of distant lands. 70

  And of those tales, whate’er they were,
  The blind Boy always had his share;
  Whether of mighty towns, or vales
  With warmer suns and softer gales,
      Or wonders of the Deep. 75

  Yet more it pleased him, more it stirred,
  When from the water-side he heard
  The shouting, and the jolly cheers;
  The bustle of the mariners
      In stillness or in storm. 80

  But what do his desires avail? 
  For He must never handle sail;
  Nor mount the mast, nor row, nor float
  In sailor’s ship, or fisher’s boat,
      Upon the rocking waves. 85

  His Mother often thought, and said,
  What sin would be upon her head
  If she should suffer this:  “My Son,
  Whate’er you do, leave this undone;
      The danger is so great.” 90

  Thus lived he by Loch-Leven’s side
  Still sounding with the sounding tide,
  And heard the billows leap and dance,
  Without a shadow of mischance,
      Till he was ten years old. 95

  When one day (and now mark me well,
  Ye [7] soon shall know how this befell)
  He in a vessel of his own,
  On the swift flood is hurrying down,
      Down to the mighty Sea. [8] 100