To look his trouble in the face, it seemed
  The Shepherd’s sole resource to sell at once
  A portion of his patrimonial fields. 
  Such was his first resolve; he thought again, 225
  And his heart failed him.  “Isabel,” said he,
  Two evenings after he had heard the news,
  “I have been toiling more than seventy years,
  And in the open sunshine of God’s love
  Have we all lived; yet if these fields of ours 230
  Should pass into a stranger’s hand, I think
  That I could not lie quiet in my grave. 
  Our lot is a hard lot; the sun himself
  Has scarcely been more diligent than I;
  And I have lived to be a fool at last 235
  To my own family.  An evil man
  That was, and made an evil choice, if he
  Were false to us; and if he were not false,
  There are ten thousand to whom loss like this
  Had been no sorrow.  I forgive him;—­but 240
  ’Twere better to be dumb than to talk thus.

  “When I began, my purpose was to speak
  Of remedies and of a cheerful hope. 
  Our Luke shall leave us, Isabel; the land
  Shall not go from us, and it shall be free; 245
  He shall possess it, free as is the wind
  That passes over it.  We have, thou know’st,
  Another kinsman; he will be our friend
  In this distress.  He is a prosperous man,
  Thriving in trade; and Luke to him shall go, 250
  And with his kinsman’s help and his own thrift
  He quickly will repair this loss, and then
  He may return to us.  If here he stay,
  What can be done?  Where every one is poor,
  What can be gained?”

  At this the old Man paused, 255
  And Isabel sat silent, for her mind
  Was busy, looking back into past times. 
  There’s Richard Bateman, thought she to herself,
  He was a parish-boy,—­at the church-door
  They made a gathering for him, shillings, pence, 260
  And half-pennies, wherewith the neighbors bought
  A basket, which they filled with pedlar’s wares;
  And, with his basket on his arm, the lad
  Went up to London, found a master there,
  Who, out of many, chose the trusty boy 265
  To go and overlook his merchandise
  Beyond the seas; where he grew wondrous rich,
  And left estates and moneys to the poor,
  And at his birthplace built a chapel, floored
  With marble, which he sent from foreign lands. 270
  These thoughts, and many others of like sort,
  Passed quickly through the mind of Isabel
  And her face brightened.  The old Man was glad,
  And thus resumed:  “Well, Isabel, this scheme,
  These two days, has been meat and drink to me. 275
  Far more than we have lost is left us yet. 
  —­We have enough—­I wish indeed that I
  Were younger;—­but this hope is a good hope. 
  Make ready Luke’s best garments, of the best
  Buy for him more, and let us send him forth 280
  To-morrow, or the next day, or to-night: 
  —­If he could go, the Boy should go to-night.”