I don't break laws an' do no harm,
An' bent a-feär'd o' noo man's feäce.
An' I be happy wi' my spot
O' freehold ground an' mossy cot,
An' shoulden get a better lot
If I had all my will,"
is to turn the natural supporters of things as they are into discontented serfs, who will gladly see them overturned. But it is too late. In the early part of this paper we gave a quotation showing how thoroughly this revolution has been effected in Dorsetshire. Others we could find even more telling, of the gradual destruction of homesteads and houses which once nourished happy souls—
"Now scattered vur an' wide,
An zome o'm be a-wantèn bread,
Zome, better off, ha' died."
For what is the result?—
"An' many that wer little farmers then
Be no a-come all adown to leabren men;
An' many leäbrèn men wi' empty hands,
Do live lik' drones upon the workers' lands."
Thus the poor are made poorer, while, still worse, the very lands of the poor—the common land—is taken from them—enclosed; for whose benefit? The large proprietors again. They get the lion's share, while the poor man gets nothing at all. Not possessing any freehold land of his own, the privilege he has enjoyed for ages of pasturing his cow, or feeding his geese or ducks, goes for nothing. As our poet makes one poor labourer say to another in one of his eclogues—
"Ah, Robert ! times be badish vor the poor.
An' worse will come, I be a-feared, if Moore
In thease year's almanick do tell us right."
To which Robert replies—
"Why then we sartianly must starve. Good-night!"
