English Eclogues I - The Old Mansion-House STRANGER
Old
friend!
why
you
seem
bent
on
parish
duty,
Breaking
the
highway
stones,--and
'tis
a
task
Somewhat
too
hard
methinks
for
age
like
yours.
OLD
MAN.
Why
yes!
for
one
with
such
a
weight
of
years
Upon
his
back.
I've
lived
here,
man
and
boy,
In
this
same
parish,
near
the
age
of
man
For
I
am
hard
upon
threescore
and
ten.
I
can
remember
sixty
years
ago
The
beautifying
of
this
mansion
here
When
my
late
Lady's
father,
the
old
Squire
Came
to
the
estate.
STRANGER.
Why
then
you
have
outlasted
All
his
improvements,
for
you
see
they're
making
Great
alterations
here.
OLD
MAN.
Aye-great
indeed!
And
if
my
poor
old
Lady
could
rise
up--
God
rest
her
soul!
'twould
grieve
her
to
behold
The
wicked
work
is
here.
STRANGER.
They've
set
about
it
In
right
good
earnest.
All
the
front
is
gone,
Here's
to
be
turf
they
tell
me,
and
a
road
Round
to
the
door.
There
were
some
yew
trees
too
Stood
in
the
court.
OLD
MAN.
Aye
Master!
fine
old
trees!
My
grandfather
could
just
remember
back
When
they
were
planted
there.
It
was
my
task
To
keep
them
trimm'd,
and
'twas
a
pleasure
to
me!
All
strait
and
smooth,
and
like
a
great
green
wall!
My
poor
old
Lady
many
a
time
would
come
And
tell
me
where
to
shear,
for
she
had
played
In
childhood
under
them,
and
'twas
her
pride
To
keep
them
in
their
beauty.
Plague
I
say
On
their
new-fangled
whimsies!
we
shall
have
A
modern
shrubbery
here
stuck
full
of
firs
And
your
pert
poplar
trees;--I
could
as
soon
Have
plough'd
my
father's
grave
as
cut
them
down!
STRANGER.
But
'twill
be
lighter
and
more
chearful
now,
A
fine
smooth
turf,
and
with
a
gravel
road
Round
for
the
carriage,--now
it
suits
my
taste.
I
like
a
shrubbery
too,
it
looks
so
fresh,
And
then
there's
some
variety
about
it.
In
spring
the
lilac
and
the
gueldres
rose,
And
the
laburnum
with
its
golden
flowers
Waving
in
the
wind.
And
when
the
autumn
comes
The
bright
red
berries
of
the
mountain
ash,
With
firs
enough
in
winter
to
look
green,
And
show
that
something
lives.
Sure
this
is
better
Than
a
great
hedge
of
yew
that
makes
it
look
All
the
year
round
like
winter,
and
for
ever
Dropping
its
poisonous
leaves
from
the
under
boughs
So
dry
and
bare!
OLD
MAN.
Ah!
so
the
new
Squire
thinks
And
pretty
work
he
makes
of
it!
what
'tis
To
have
a
stranger
come
to
an
old
house!
STRANGER.
It
seems
you
know
him
not?
OLD
MAN.
No
Sir,
not
I.
They
tell
me
he's
expected
daily
now,
But
in
my
Lady's
time
he
never
came
But
once,
for
they
were
very
distant
kin.
If
he
had
played
about
here
when
a
child
In
that
fore
court,
and
eat
the
yew-berries,
And
sat
in
the
porch
threading
the
jessamine
flowers,
That
fell
so
thick,
he
had
not
had
the
heart
To
mar
all
thus.
STRANGER.
Come--come!
all
a
not
wrong.
Those
old
dark
windows--
OLD
MAN.
They're
demolish'd
too--
As
if
he
could
not
see
thro'
casement
glass!
The
very
red-breasts
that
so
regular
Came
to
my
Lady
for
her
morning
crumbs,
Won't
know
the
window
now!
STRANGER.
Nay
they
were
high
And
then
so
darken'd
up
with
jessamine,
Harbouring
the
vermine;--that
was
a
fine
tree
However.
Did
it
not
grow
in
and
line
The
porch?
OLD
MAN.
All
over
it:
it
did
one
good
To
pass
within
ten
yards
when
'twas
in
blossom.
There
was
a
sweet-briar
too
that
grew
beside.
My
Lady
loved
at
evening
to
sit
there
And
knit;
and
her
old
dog
lay
at
her
feet
And
slept
in
the
sun;
'twas
an
old
favourite
dog
She
did
not
love
him
less
that
he
was
old
And
feeble,
and
he
always
had
a
place
By
the
fire-side,
and
when
he
died
at
last
She
made
me
dig
a
grave
in
the
garden
for
him.
Ah
I
she
was
good
to
all!
a
woful
day
'Twas
for
the
poor
when
to
her
grave
she
went!
STRANGER.
They
lost
a
friend
then?
OLD
MAN.
You're
a
stranger
here
Or
would
not
ask
that
question.
Were
they
sick?
She
had
rare
cordial
waters,
and
for
herbs
She
could
have
taught
the
Doctors.
Then
at
winter
When
weekly
she
distributed
the
bread
In
the
poor
old
porch,
to
see
her
and
to
hear
The
blessings
on
her!
and
I
warrant
them
They
were
a
blessing
to
her
when
her
wealth
Had
been
no
comfort
else.
At
Christmas,
Sir!
It
would
have
warm'd
your
heart
if
you
had
seen
Her
Christmas
kitchen,--how
the
blazing
fire
Made
her
fine
pewter
shine,
and
holly
boughs
So
chearful
red,--and
as
for
misseltoe,
The
finest
bough
that
grew
in
the
country
round
Was
mark'd
for
Madam.
Then
her
old
ale
went
So
bountiful
about!
a
Christmas
cask,
And
'twas
a
noble
one!
God
help
me
Sir!
But
I
shall
never
see
such
days
again.
STRANGER.
Things
may
be
better
yet
than
you
suppose
And
you
should
hope
the
best.
OLD
MAN.
It
don't
look
well
These
alterations
Sir!
I'm
an
old
man
And
love
the
good
old
fashions;
we
don't
find
Old
bounty
in
new
houses.
They've
destroyed
All
that
my
Lady
loved;
her
favourite
walk
Grubb'd
up,
and
they
do
say
that
the
great
row
Of
elms
behind
the
house,
that
meet
a-top
They
must
fall
too.
Well!
well!
I
did
not
think
To
live
to
see
all
this,
and
'tis
perhaps
A
comfort
I
shan't
live
to
see
it
long.
STRANGER.
But
sure
all
changes
are
not
needs
for
the
worse
My
friend.
OLD
MAN.
May-hap
they
mayn't
Sir;--for
all
that
I
like
what
I've
been
us'd
to.
I
remember
All
this
from
a
child
up,
and
now
to
lose
it,
'Tis
losing
an
old
friend.
There's
nothing
left
As
'twas;--I
go
abroad
and
only
meet
With
men
whose
fathers
I
remember
boys;
The
brook
that
used
to
run
before
my
door
That's
gone
to
the
great
pond;
the
trees
I
learnt
To
climb
are
down;
and
I
see
nothing
now
That
tells
me
of
old
times,
except
the
stones
In
the
church-yard.
You
are
young
Sir
and
I
hope
Have
many
years
in
store,--but
pray
to
God
You
mayn't
be
left
the
last
of
all
your
friends.
STRANGER.
Well!
well!
you've
one
friend
more
than
you're
aware
of.
If
the
Squire's
taste
don't
suit
with
your's,
I
warrant
That's
all
you'll
quarrel
with:
walk
in
and
taste
His
beer,
old
friend!
and
see
if
your
old
Lady
E'er
broached
a
better
cask.
You
did
not
know
me,
But
we're
acquainted
now.
'Twould
not
be
easy
To
make
you
like
the
outside;
but
within--
That
is
not
changed
my
friend!
you'll
always
find
The
same
old
bounty
and
old
welcome
there.
