IV.
He saw the cottage he must tread no more,
And sighed that man should be so stern to man;
Two harnessed palfreys stood beside the door,
And by the windows busy movement ran;
Then did his eyes the village downs explore,
Ere yet the labors of the day began;
But all still slept, save where the watch-dog bayed,
Or lowed the kine and cropt the dewy glade.
V.
And many a field new traces of the plough,
And many a roof its recent structure showed,
And in the harbor many a sable prow,
Rocked by the billows, at her anchor rode;
And, ah! he saw (to him no temple now)
The lowly house where erst in prayer he bowed,
And strove to lead his little flock to Heaven;
His flock no more,—with strifes now sorely riven.
VI.
He turned his eyes again to that dear spot
Where, by the door, the waiting palfreys stood:
There, laden now, they bore what Mary thought
The tender exiles, in the lonely wood,
Would need or miss the most, and likewise aught
That would most cheer or comfort their abode;
With useful household wares, securely piled,
But cumbersome for journeying through the wild.
VII.
He saw red Waban take each palfrey's rein,
And slowly walk the laden beasts before;
He saw his Mary, with her little train
Of blooming children, issue from the door;
