The shepherd, if he loved himself, must needs

Have loved his Helpmate; but to Michael's heart

This son of his old age was yet more dear

144

Less from instinctive tenderness, the same Fond spirit that blindly works in the blood of all

Than that a child, more than all other gifts,

That earth can offer to declining man Brings hope with it, and forward looking thoughts,

And stirrings of inquietude, when they 150
By tendency of nature needs must fail.
Exceeding was the love he bare to him,
His heart and his heart's joy! For often-
times

Old Michael, while he was a babe in arms,
Had done him female service, not alone 155
For pastime and delight, as is the use
Of fathers, but with patient mind enforced
To acts of tenderness; and he had rocked
His cradle as with a woman's gentle hand.

And when by Heaven's good grace the boy grew up

A healthy Lad, and carried in his cheek
Two steady roses that were five years old,
Then Michael from a winter coppice cut 181
With his own hand a sapling, which he
hooped

With iron, making it throughout in all
Due requisites a perfect shepherd's staff,
And gave it to the Boy; wherewith equipt
He as a watchman oftentimes was placed
At gate or gap, to stem or turn the flock;
And, to his office prematurely called, 188
There stood the urchin, as you will divine,
Something between a hindrance and a help;
And for this course not always, I believe,
Receiving from his Father hire of praise;
Though nought was left undone which
staff or voice,

Or looks, or threatening gestures could perform.