THE OLD CUMBERLAND BEGGAR I SAW an aged Beggar in my walk; And he was seated,by the highway side,On a low structure of rude masonry Built at the foot of a huge hill,that they Who lead their horses down the steep rough road May thence remount at ease.The aged Man Had placed his staff across the broad smooth stone That overlays the pile; and,from a bag All white with flour,the dole of village dames,He drew his scraps and fragments,one by one; 10 And scanned them with a fixed and serious look Of idle computation.In the sun,Upon the second step of that small pile,Surrounded by those wild unpeopled hills,He sat,and ate his food in solitude:And ever,scattered from his palsied hand,That,still attempting to prevent the waste,Was baffled still,the crumbs in little showers Fell on the ground; and the small mountain birds,Not venturing yet to peck their destined meal,20 Approached within the length of half his staff.Him from my childhood have I known; and then He was so old,he seems not older now; He travels on,a solitary Man,So helpless in appearance,that for him The sauntering Horseman throws not with a slack And careless hand his alms upon the ground,But stops,--that he may safely lodge the coin Within the old Man's hat; nor quits him so,But still,when he has given his horse the rein,30